L^'vuiioa 


BV  3555  .M7  H8 
Hubbard,  Ethel  Daniels 
The  Moffats 


ROKERT        AXU        MARY        MOFFAT,        TWO 

CHRISTIAN    PILGRIMS    WHO.    AT   THE 

THRESHOLD     OF     LIFE,     RISKED 

ALL    TO     CARRY     THROUGH 

THE     UATROD     PATHS 

OF     AFRICA     THE 

GOSPEL  OF  A 

LOVING 

GOD 


Photos.  London  Missionary  Society 


THE  MOFFATS 


BY 


ETHEL   DANIELS   HUBBARD 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY 

JESSIE  GILLESPIE 


NEW     YORK 

Missionary  Education  Movement  of  the 
United  States  and  Canada 

1917 


COPTBIGHT,    1917,  BT 

MISSIONABT   EDUCATION  MOVEMENT  OF  THE 

UNITED   STATES    AND    CANADA 


TO    MY    MOTHER 
AND  MY  AUNT 

This  Book 
Is  Affectionatelt  Inscbibbd 


NOTE 


The  author  desires  to  acknowledge  her  indebted- 
ness to  various  sources  of  material.  Seven  of  the 
half-tone  illustrations  are  used  by  permission  of 
the  London  Missionary  Society ;  the  other  through 
the  kindness  of  the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  Two  books 
which  have  furnished  valuable  assistance  are  The 
Lives  of  Robert  and  Mary  Moffat,  by  John  S.  Mof- 
fat, their  son,  and  Missionary  Labors  and  Scenes 
in  Southern  Africa,  by  Robert  Moffat  himself. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 
I 

Robert  and  Mary        .... 

PAGE 
11 

II 

A  Young  Man  's  Problem  . 

19 

III 

''Fare  Thee  Weel"  .... 

31 

IV 

The  Kraal  of  Afrikaner  the  Out- 
law       

47 

V 

''Two  Strong  Men  Stand  Face  to 
Face" 

67 

VI 

The    Gipsy    Life    of    an    African 
Traveler    

79 

VII 

The  Victory  of  Love  .... 

99 

VIII 

A  Honeymoon  in  an  Ox-caet  . 

117 

IX 

The  Wait-a-bit  Thorn 

135 

X 

Black  Bugbears 

151 

XI 

"  The  White  Man 's  Burden  "  . 

167 

XII 

The  War  Cry  of  the  Mantatees    . 

181 

XIII 

The  Wife's  Part        .... 

197 

XIV 

The  Dream  Come  True     . 

215 

XV 

"The  Smoke  of  a  Thousand  Vil- 
lages"         

239 

XVI 

The  Almond-tree  of  Kuruman 

259 

XVII 

The  Reveille 

277 

ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAQE 

Robert  and  Mary  Moffat  at  the  Threshold  of  Life    (Half- 
tone)          Frontispiece 

"  Robert  and  Mary  Had  Talked  It  All  Over  for  the  Last 

Time" 12 

"  He  .    .    .   Came  to  a  Sudden  Halt  Before  a  Poster  Which 

Hung  by  the  Roadside  " 20 

"  For  Her,  That  Autumn  Was  Gray  with  Loneliness  "  32 

"  The   Man   Most  Talked  About   and   Most  Feared   in   All 

Africa" 48 

"  With  a  Feeling  of  Utter  Desolation,  Robert  Watched  the 

Ox-wagon  Disappear  in  the  Desert " 68 

"  Afrikaner  Smiled  Appreciatively  at  the  Words  Which  He 

Caught" 80 

"  She  Sat  Down  and  Wrote  a  Letter  to  Robert's  Parents  "     100 
Map   of  South  Africa,   Showing  Places  Mentioned  in   The 

Moffats 118 

"At   All    Hours  of   the  Day  Their   Hut   Was  Invaded  by 

Inquisitive  Visitors " 136 

"The  Smoke  of  a  Thousand  Villages"  (Half-tone)        .        .148 

Within  a  Bechuana  Kraal   (Half-tone) 148 

"  There  on  the  Floor  Sat  His  Wife,  Shaking  a  Milk-Sack  "     152 
"  Little  Mary  Moffat  .    .    .  Hand  in  Hand  with  Dicky  .    .    . 

Her  Playmate " 168 

"Waterboer,  the  Griqua  Chief" 182 

"  Real  Little  Bushmen,  Straight  from  the  Wilds "       .        .     198 

Trekking  in  South  Africa  (Half-tone) 212 

Kuruman  in  Winter   (Half-tone) 212 

"  Women  and  Girls  .    .    .   Gathered  Around  Mrs.  Moflfat  to 

Learn  the  Use  of  the  Needle  " 216 

"  He  Was  Spirited  Awav  to  Audience  Halls  to  Address  Great 

Throngs  of  People" 240 

"There  .    .    .  Mary   Pledged   Him   Her   Love   and   Loyalty 

While  Life  Should  Last " 260 

"  Through  All  the  Memories  of  the  Past  .   .    .  Robert  Moffat 

Dreamed  Anew  the  Future  of  His  Adopted  Country  "   .      278 
Robert  and  Mary  Moffat  in  the  Evening  of  Life  (Half-tone)     284 


CHAPTER  I 
ROBERT  AND  MARY 

How  sweetly  bloom'd  the  gay,  green  birk, 

How  rich  the  hawthorn's  blossom, 
As  underneath  their  fragrant  shade 

I  clasped  her  to  my  bosom ! 
The  golden  hours  on  angel  wings 

Flew  o'er  me  and  my  dearie, 
For  dear  to  me  aj  light  and  life 

Was  my  sweet  Highland  Mary. 

— Robert  Burns 


"  BOBEBT                      ^Bl^ 

AND 

MABY       mr^ 

HAD 

TALKED          tt^ 

IT   ALL                       Jiiii^ 

OVEB 

FOB                l^^HI 

THE 

LAST               ^^^A 

TIME 

HH 

7^, 


I 

ROBERT  AND  MARY 


SUMMER  evening  in  the  north  of 
England  cast  its  phantom  light  upon 
the  fields  and  the  garden  and  the  old 
stone  house  at  the  end  of  the  lane. 
The  fragrance  of  roses  drifted  through 
the  air  and  mingled  subtly  with  the 
bitter-sweet  thoughts  of  the  girl  who  sat  alone 
by  her  chamber  mndow.  A  few  minutes  before 
she  had  come  indoors  and  taken  refuge  in  her 
room,  knowing  that  only  solitude  and  the  stillness 
of  night  could  smooth  the  tangle  of  the  day's 
experience. 

Almost  mechanically  she  said  over  again  the 
words  she  had  spoken  with  such  sad  confidence 
earlier  in  the  evening  when  Robert  was  by  her 
side,  his  very  presence  giving  her  courage.  * '  Im- 
pelled by  feelings  I  cannot  master,  held  back  by 
ties  I  dare  not  break."  Out  there  in  the  shadowy 
lane  between  the  hedgerows  and  the  hawthorn 
trees,  Robert  and  Mary  had  talked  it  all  over  for 
the  last  time,  only  to  reach  the  same  unwelcome 

13 


THE   MOFFAT S 


conclusion  they  had  reached  before — he  must  go 
and  she  must  stay.  The  difficulty  of  the  situation 
was  more  bearable  when  he  was  there  to  *'  share 
it  a'  "  and  point  out  the  one  gleam  of  hope  for 
the  future.  Alone,  her  heart  quailed  before  the 
thought  of  what  she  must  endure.  If  only  Rob- 
ert were  like  other  men,  content  to  settle  in 
England  to  a  worthy  work,  driven  by  no  heart- 
breaking determination  to  leave  home  and  coun- 
try and  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth!  How  easy 
then  would  be  her  lot,  not  unlike  that  of  other 
women;  how  plain  her  duty,  for  her  father  did 
not  oppose  her  marrying  Robert  because  he  was 
a  gardener  in  his  service,  but  solely  because  he 
was  possessed  by  this  terrible  resolve  to  spend 
his  life  in  some  wild,  heathen  country  from  which 
he  would  probably  never  return! 

But  that  vagrant  thought  did  not  linger  in  the 
girl's  mind,  for  she  knew  full  well  that  the  very 
reason  she  loved  Robert  with  the  whole  strength 
of  her  being  was  that  a  great  purpose  stood  like 
a  fixed  star  over  his  life.  She  read  that  purpose 
in  his  black  eyes,  which  flashed  forth  the  old 
Covenanter  spirit  of  his  Scotch  mother.  She  had 
seen  its  outworkings  every  day  during  the  half- 
14 


ROBERT  AND  3IAR7 


year  he  had  lived  at  Dukinfield ;  in  the  painstaking 
way  he  grafted  and  pruned  the  young  trees  in  her 
father's  garden;  in  the  eagerness  with  which  he 
turned  to  his  books  when  the  day's  work  was 
done,  as  if  he  had  a  goal  to  reach  and  there  were 
no  time  to  lose;  in  the  fervor  with  which  he 
played  his  violin  winter  evenings  as  they  sat 
around  the  blazing  fire  in  the  grate,  played  as  if 
life  held  a  vision  for  him. 

No,  though  she,  Mary  Smith,  be  left  at  home 
desolate  and  heart-broken,  she  would  never,  never 
stand  between  Robert  Moffat  and  his  purpose. 
She  would  acquire  a  purpose  for  endurance  to 
match  his  for  action.  He  must  go  and  she  must 
stay — and  God  help  them  both!  With  a  sob 
catching  her  breath,  she  knelt  and  asked  God  to 
make  them  able  to  drink  the  cup  he  had  placed  in 
their  trembling  hands.  And  then,  tired  out  with 
the  heart-searching  experiences  of  the  day,  she 
fell  asleep. 

Meanwhile,  out  between  the  hedgerows  which 
bounded  the  Manchester  road,  a  young  man 
walked  with  dogged  gait,  as  if  force  of  will  alone 
held  him  to  his  course.  He  was  tall  and  straight, 
with  an  agile,  firmly  knit  figure  which  told  of  an 

15 


THE   MOFFAT S 


outdoor  life  and  athletic  training.  If  the  twi- 
light had  been  bright  enough  to  reveal  his  face, 
one  could  have  read  a  sensitive  nature  made 
strong  by  an  indomitable  will.  The  determined 
flash  in  his  eyes  showed  that  Robert  Moffat  would 
do  his  duty,  though  it  thwart  his  dearest  desire. 
''  There  is  no  other  way,"  he  said  wearily  to  him- 
self, **  no  other  way  for  Mary  or  for  me.  God 
has  laid  his  claim  upon  us  both,  for  me  to  go,  for 
her  to  stay,  and  we  may  not  disobey.  Some  time 
he  may  lay  his  claim  upon  Mary's  parents,  and 
they  will  let  her  come  to  me  in  South  Africa  or 
the  South  Sea  Islands  or  wherever  I  may  be,  and 

then ."    But  even  as  he  said  the  words  with 

which  they  had  comforted  each  other  earlier  in 
the  evening,  a  great  wave  of  homesick  longing 
swept  over  him,  and  the  future  loomed  drear 
and  forbidding.  In  imagination  he  pictured  the 
enormous  distance  he  must  go,  the  voyage  of 
three  months,  then  the  slow  journey  on  foot  or  by 
ox-cart  into  the  interior,  and  his  heart  left  back 
in  old  England,  up  north  in  Cheshire,  with  blue- 
eyed  Mary  of  Dukinfield.  Alas  for  Robert !  He 
had  little  dreamed  it  would  cost  him  so  dear  to 
carry  out  this  precious  scheme  of  his,  which  had 
16 


ROBERT  AND  MART 


come  to  him  with  all  the  force  of  a  command  from 
heaven.  He  had  foreseen  that  it  would  mean  a 
terrific  wrench  to  tear  himself  away  from  the  little 
home  group  in  Scotland,  especially  from  his  dark- 
eyed,  beautiful  mother,  who  had  always  been  a 
mystery  and  an  inspiration  to  him.  But  never 
had  he  known  or  imagined — how  could  he? — the 
cruel  hurt  of  loving  a  girl  with  all  his  heart  and 
going  away  to  leave  her,  perhaps  forever. 

The  tall  chimneys  and  spires  of  Manchester 
loomed  close  at  hand,  and  Robert  Moffat  strode 
through  the  dingy  outskirts,  past  the  cottages  of 
the  spinners  and  the  weavers  into  the  broader 
streets  of  the  city,  turning  finally  into  that  quiet 
side  street  where  he  had  his  lodging.  The  long 
twilight  was  fading  from  the  west,  but  scarcely 
would  it  vanish  wholly  before  the  first  signs  of 
dawn  were  glimmering  in  the  east.  Such  is  the 
magic  of  these  summer  nights  in  the  north. 

A  day  or  two  hence  Robert  was  to  start  on  his 
way  to  Scotland  for  that  dreaded  parting  with 
his  father,  mother,  brothers,  and  sisters  in  the 
stone  cottage  by  the  Firth  of  Forth.  Then  back 
again  to  Manchester  for  the  meetings  which  would 
celebrate   his   departure   to   a  foreign  country, 

17 


THE   MOFFATS 


for  one  last  walk  over  the  familiar  road  to 
Dukinfield  to  the  girl  who  would  be  out  among 
the  trees  and  the  flowers  awaiting  his  coming,  an 
agonizing  farewell,  then  the  journey  south  to 
London,  and  finally  the  harbor  and  the  ship  and 
— the  shores  of  England  no  more ! 


18 


CHAPTER  II 
A  YOUNG  MAN'S  PROBLEM 

I  was  not  disobedient  unto  the  heavenly  vision. 

— Saint  Paul 


"  HE    .    .    .    CAME    TO    A    SUDDEN    HALT    BE- 

FOBE    A    POSTER    WHICH    HUNG    BY 

THE    ROADSIDE." 


II 

A  YOUNG  MAN'S  PROBLEM 


HE  bitter  crisis  which  the  young  lovers 
were  compelled  to  face  had  its  origin  in 
a  chain  of  events  beginning  far  back  in 
Robert  Moffat's  boyhood.  In  his  cot- 
tage home  in  Scotland  there  had  come 
to  the  small  boy,  all  unknown  to  himself, 
the  first  beckonings  toward  the  high  destiny  of 
his  manhood;  years  later  the  shadowy  summons 
to  the  child  became  a  clear  call  of  duty  to  the 
young  man. 

It  was  after  Robert  had  left  his  home  in  Scot- 
land and  begun  work  as  gardener  on  a  large  estate 
at  High  Leigh,  England,  that  one  summer  evening 
he  set  out  on  foot  for  Warrington,  about  six  miles 
away,  intending  to  make  some  purchases  in  the 
shops.  It  was  sunset  time,  and  a  peculiar  hush 
seemed  to  brood  over  field  and  town.  Stirred  by 
the  beauty  of  the  hour  and  the  scene,  the  young 
man  fell  to  dreaming  of  his  future  and  the  role 
he  would  like  to  play  in  life.  His  thoughts  dwelt 
fondly  upon  a  new  position  which  had  been  offered 

21 


THE   MOFFATS 


him,  upon  its  responsibility  and  importance  and 
the  honor  it  implied  to  a  lad  of  nineteen.  His 
fancy  drew  a  sunny  picture  of  the  life  he  would 
lead  in  the  new  environment,  of  the  personal  ad- 
vantages it  would  yield  him,  as  well  as  the  oppor- 
tunities for  doing  good.  With  a  glow  of  satisfac- 
tion at  the  prospect,  he  crossed  the  bridge  which 
led  into  Warrington  and  came  to  a  sudden  halt  be- 
fore a  poster  which  hung  by  the  roadside.  Mas- 
tered by  a  curiosity  he  could  not  explain,  he  read 
the  words  once  and  again:  "Missionary  Meeting, 
Guild  Hall,  Warrington,  Thursday  Evening,  July 
/  25.  Speaker,  Reverend  William  Roby,  of  Man- 
^  Chester."  The  date  was  past,  the  meeting  over, 
and  the  speaker  already  departed  to  his  home. 
What  invisible  hand  wove  the  spell  which  held 
Robert  Moffat  rooted  to  the  spot,  dead  to  all 
around  him? 

By  a  quick  process  of  association  the  words 
awakened  memories  that  had  been  for  a  long  time 
slumbering  in  the  young  man's  mind.  He  was 
back  in  the  stone  cottage  at  Carronshore,  Scot- 
land, a  little  boy  sitting  with  his  brothers  and 
sisters  around  the  fireside  while  the  north  wind 
whistled  outside,  rebelling  at  his  stint  of  knitting 
22 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  PEOBLEM 


or  sewing,  which  he  thought  fit  for  girls  only,  but 
listening  intently  while  their  mother  read  them 
stories  of  the  daring  Moravian  missionaries  in 
Greenland  and  Labrador.  He  was  looking  again 
into  his  mother's  strangely  beautiful  face,  with  its 
interplay  of  severity  and  tenderness,  gloom  and 
radiance.  For  a  moment  he  caught  again  that 
w^onderful  smile,  which  iUumined  her  face  as  sun- 
shine brightens  a  gray  day  in  April.  Then,  all 
at  once,  he  understood  why  the  placard,  with  its 
notice  of  a  bygone  event,  stirred  such  a  commo- 
tion in  his  mind.  God  was  calling  him,  Robert 
■^  Moffat,  to  the  life  of  a  missionary,  exactly  as  he 
had  called  the  men  and  women  of  the  Moravian 
church  years  before. 

From  that  night,  one  question,  and  one  only, 
haunted  Robert's  mind,  forcibly  expelling  the  old 
dreams  of  the  future,  as  well  as  the  doubts  and 
perplexities  of  the  year  just  past.  From  that 
moment,  as  he  afterwards  said,  he  was  ''  another 
man  with  another  heart."  How  was  he  to  be- 
come a  missionary?  None  of  the  great  mission- 
ary societies  in  London  would  accept  him,  he 
thought  to  himself,  because  he  had  never  been  to 
an  academy  or  college.    He  took  a  hasty  review 

23 


THE   MOFFATS 


of  his  school  career  and  found  it  brief  and  frag- 
mentary enough.  Little  or  no  systematic  educa- 
tion had  fallen  to  his  lot.  First,  there  had  been 
the  parish  school,  taught  by  ''  Wully  "  Mitchell, 
the  stern  taskmaster,  who  chastised  his  small 
pupils  because  they  floundered  hopelessly  in  the 
catechism,  their  first  reading-lesson  after  their 
a-b-c's.  A  few  years  later  he  had  trudged  by  the 
side  of  his  older  brother,  Alexander,  to  Falkirk, 
the  next  to^\m.  There  for  six  months  he  had 
studied  writing  and  bookkeeping  in  the  regular 
classes  and  picked  up  a  little  geography  and 
astronomy  after  hours  by  listening  outside  the 
circle  of  older  boys,  when  they  took  their  extra 
lesson  for  extra  pay,  and  seeking  explanation  of 
the  knotty  points  from  his  brother  as  they  walked 
home.  At  fourteen  he  had  been  apprenticed  to 
learn  the  trade  of  gardener  and  had  begun  his 
day's  work  at  four  o'clock,  even  on  the  dark,  cold 
mornings  of  a  Scottish  winter,  when  he  had  to  rap 
his  knuckles  against  the  handle  of  the  spade  to 
bring  feeling  into  them.  Long  hours  and  hard 
work  had  not  deterred  him,  however,  from  going 
occasionally  to  evening  school  to  study  Latin  and 
24 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  PROBLEM 


from  taking  lessons  at  the  anvil  and  on  the  violin 
from  a  kind  and  versatile  neighbor. 

It  was  not  his  parents'  fault  that  he  had  had  so 
few  school  advantages,  but  his  own,  for  he  had 
wanted  to  be  a  man  before  his  time  and  go  to  sea 
as  a  sailor.  With  a  friendly  captain  he  took 
several  voyages  in  a  trading  vessel,  but  the 
hairbreadth  escapes  along  that  dangerous  coast 
were  too  many  for  a  boy  of  ten  to  relish,  and  he 
returned  to  his  father's  house  a  ''sadder  and 
wiser"  lad. 

This  reminiscence  gave  Robert  the  needed  clue 
to  solve  his  enigma,  how  to  become  a  missionary. 
It  was  simple  enough.  He  would  again  go  to  sea 
as  a  sailor,  cross  the  ocean  to  some  foreign  land, 
and  there  teach  the  heathen  people  about  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Savior,  to  whom  he  had  recently 
yielded  his  passionate  homage  after  months  of 
doubt  and  struggle. 

When  Robert  Moffat  had  left  his  home  in  Scot- 
land just  before  his  eighteenth  birthday,  to  take 
his  new  position  as  gardener  at  High  Leigh  in 
Cheshire,  his  mother  walked  with  him  to  the 
Firth  of  Forth,  from  which  he  was  to  go  by  ship 
to  England.    It  seemed  like  a  long  separation  to 

25 


THE    MOFFATS 


the  mother  and  her  boy,  for  England  and  Scotland 
were  very  far  apart  in  those  days.  Excitement 
and  regret  blazed  in  Robert's  eyes  as  he  looked 
toward  the  shore  and  then  into  his  mother 's  seri- 
ous face.  '*Now,  my  Robert,"  said  she,  "  let  us 
stand  here  for  a  few  minutes,  for  I  wish  to  ask 
one  favor  of  you  before  we  part.  I  only  ask 
whether  you  will  read  a  chapter  in  the  Bible 
every  morning,  and  another  every  evening?" 
** Mother,"  interrupted  the  boy  rather  indig- 
nantly, ''you  know  I  read  my  Bible."  ''I  know 
you  do,"  she  replied,  ''but  you  do  not  read  it 
regularly,  or  as  a  duty  you  owe  to  God,  its  author. 
Now  I  shall  return  home  with  a  happy  heart,  inas- 
much as  you  have  promised  to  read  the  Scriptures 
daily.  Oh,  Robert,  my  son,"  and  her  eyes  shone 
with  tears,  "read  much  in  the  New  Testament. 
Read  much  in  the  Gospels,  the  blessed  Gospels. 
Then  you  cannot  well  go  astray.  If  you  pray,  the 
Lord  himself  will  teach  you."  The  passionate 
enthusiasm  which  burned  in  her  own  life  was  soon 
to  catch  fire  in  her  son's  life  with  an  intensity  of 
which  she  little  dreamed. 

In  the  days  that  followed,  Robert  was  tempted 
to  abjure  that  promise  to  his  mother,  since  its 
26 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  PROBLEM 


fulfilment  brought  him  but  little  satisfaction  at 
first  and  sore  uneasiness  later  on.  As  he 
went  about  his  work  in  the  garden  at  High 
Leigh,  one  question  harassed  him  continually. 
''What  think  ye  of  Christ?  What  think  ye  of 
Christ?"  Must  he  answer  that  question!  Would 
it  give  him  no  peace  until  he  dealt  with  it  fairly 
and  squarely?  Perhaps  he  could  dodge  its  at- 
tacks if  he  should  give  up  reading  the  Bible.  At 
the  thought,  his  mother's  face,  with  its  dark, 
pleading  eyes,  came  vividly  before  him,  and 
he  knew  he  could  never  break  his  promise  to  her, 
whatever  commotion  it  might  cause  in  his  mind. 

One  night  he  had  a  horrible  dream.  It  seemed 
as  if  his  sins  were  piled  up  into  a  great  mountain 
and  were  tumbling  down  upon  him.  When  he 
awoke,  shivering  with  terror,  he  fell  on  his  knees 
in  prayer  for  the  first  time  in  many  weeks.  The 
specter  of  his  dream  pursued  him  into  the  day- 
light and  dogged  his  steps  wherever  he  went,  but 
there  was  no  one  to  whom  he  could  confide  his 
misery.  When  he  tried  to  pray,  a  black  cloud 
seemed  to  come  between  himself  and  God. 

Every  evening  he  betook  himself  to  his  garden 
lodge  and  there,  in  solitude  undisturbed,  read  and 

27 


THE   MOFFATS 


reread  the  New  Testament,  even  as  his  mother 
had  bidden  him.  As  he  read,  meaning  gradually 
crept  into  the  words  which  had  hitherto  seemed 
so  blank.  *'Can  it  be  possible  that  I  have  never 
understood  what  I  have  been  reading?"  he  ex- 
claimed with  a  full  heart.  One  passage  and  then 
another  shone  out  of  the  fog,  until  he  could  see 
his  way  straight  to  Jesus  Christ  and  could  read 
the  friendly  welcome  upon  his  face.  Then  he  had 
all  the  light  he  needed  to  chase  the  bogies  of  fear 
from  his  life  forever. 

AVith  boyish  enthusiasm  he  threw  himself  into 
the  work  of  the  Wesleyan  Methodists,  whose 
straightforward  preaching  had  helped  to  "stab 
his  spirit  broad  awake."  The  Methodists  were  a 
new  sect,  much  misunderstood  and  maligned,  and 
Robert's  connection  with  them  brought  him  into 
disfavor  with  his  employers,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leigh. 
Hitherto  they  had  been  uncommonly  interested  in 
their  young  gardener,  who  had  such  quiet  ways 
and  such  determined  black  eyes.  About  this  time 
a  flattering  offer  was  made  him  to  become  factor, 
steward,  and  gardener  combined,  with  hundreds 
of  acres  of  farm  land,  a  garden,  and  a  number  of 
men  under  his  charge.  But  one  condition  was 
28 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  PROBLEM 


attached  to  the  offer, — that  he  should  give  up  the 
Methodist  meetings.  Robert  Moffat  replied  with 
the  spicy  candor  of  a  Scotchman,  "I  thank  you 
for  your  good  intentions,  but  I  would  prefer  my 
God  to  white  and  yellow  ore." 

It  was  not  long  before  another  position  was 
proffered  with  no  such  conditions  attached.  Rob- 
ert was  looking  forward  to  its  acceptance,  when, 
near  the  bridge  at  Warrington,  the  whole  meaning 
of  life  was  changed  in  a  moment  by  a  few  printed 
words  on  a  poster  by  the  roadside.  Since  that 
memorable  night  there  had  been  but  one  concern 
in  life  for  Robert  Moffat.  How  should  he  find  a 
way  into  the  lofty,  adventurous  career  of  a  mis- 
sionary? Would  there  be  a  place  within  its 
charmed  circle  for  a  young  Scotch  gardener,  with 
no  pretensions  to  learning,  but  ^'a  man  for  a' 
that"! 


29 


CHAPTER   III 
''FARE  THEE  WEEL" 

Till  a'  the  seas  gang  dry,  my  dear 
And  the  rocks  melt  wi'  the  sun! 
And  I  will  love  thee  still,  my  dear, 
While  the  sands  o'  life  shall  run. 

And  fare  thee  weel,  my  only  love, 
And  fare  thee  weel  awhile! 
And  I  will  come  again,  my  love, 
Tho'  it  were  ten  thousand  mile! 

— Eobert  Burns 


"  FOE    HEB, 
THAT   AUTUMN 
WAS   GRAY   WITH 
LONELINESS." 


Ill 

''FARE  THEE  WEEL" 


,N  the  city  of  Manchester,  not  many 
miles  from  High  Leigh,  there  was  to 
be  held  a  gathering  of  Wesleyan  Meth- 
odists which  would  last  several  days. 
Being  exactly  in  the  mood  for  such  an 
event,  Robert  Moffat  resolved  to  attend 
-and  persuaded  Hamlet  Clarke,  his  chum,  to 
accompany  him.  Accordingly,  on  an  autumn  day, 
the  two  set  forth  along  the  road  which  led  through 
the  green  fields  and  the  picturesque  villages  into 
Manchester,  the  busiest  city  of  northern  England. 
The  usual  cloud  of  black  smoke  hung  low  over  the 
city  as  they  approached,  betokening  the  presence 
of  the  great  cotton  industries,  but  nothing  there 
was  to  betoken  the  presence  that  day  of  a  young 
Scotchman  who  would  soon  undertake  an  indus- 
try more  stupendous  in  its  effect  for  all  time  than 
the  output  of  those  great  factories. 

Not  long  after  their  arrival  in  town,  a  name,  at 
once  familiar  and  mysterious,  caught  Robert's  at- 
tention.   The  Reverend  William  Roby !    The  very 

33 


THE   MOFFATS 


name  he  had  read  on  the  poster  by  the  Warring- 
ton bridge  that  memorable  evening  not  long  be- 
fore !  What  would  he  be  like,  the  unknown  man 
whose  name  had  figured  in  the  most  crucial  ex- 
perience of  Robert's  life?  To  see  and  hear  this 
wonderful  man  would  be  like  having  your  story- 
book heroes  step  out  of  the  pages  where  you  had 
kno^\Ti  them  and  become  flesh  and  blood  before 
your  eyes.  So  it  was  with  tense  excitement  that 
Robert  took  his  place  in  the  meeting  which  Mr. 
Roby  was  scheduled  to  address.  The  mysterious 
personage  soon  appeared  upon  the  platform,  a 
real  man,  dignified  and  grave,  but  with  a  sure 
friendliness  in  his  face.  There  was  a  true  ring 
in  his  voice  as  he  spoke,  and  Robert  sat  quite  still, 
listening  to  his  earnest  words  with  a  burning  un- 
rest in  his  heart. 

That  evening,  as  they  returned  to  their  lodg- 
ings, a  chance  remark  made  Robert's  black  eyes 
flash  with  interest.  ''Mr.  Roby,"  some  one  was 
saying,  **oh  yes,  he  is  a  great  missionary;  he 
often  sends  out  young  men  to  the  heathen!'* 
What  was  that?  Sends  out  young  men  to  the 
heathen?  As  Robert  Moifat  went  to  his  room,  a 
project  was  shaping  in  his  mind,  such  a  daring 
34 


"  FARE  THEE  WEEL  " 


project  that  lie  lay  awake  most  of  the  night  pray- 
ing for  courage  to  make  the  venture  on  the  mor- 
row. Though  fearless  in  danger  and  immovable 
when  principle  was  at  stake,  Robert  was  by 
nature  intensely  shy,  and  to  carry  through  the 
plan  that  he  had  made  meant  a  severe  ordeal.  He 
confided  the  scheme  to  Hamlet  Clarke  and  asked 
him  to  go  with  him,  but  Hamlet  refused  point- 
blank,  though  he  consented  to  go  as  far  as  the 
door  and  wait  outside. 

The  next  morning  two  young  men  could  have 
been  seen  walking  through  the  streets  of  Man- 
chester, one  with  a  worried  look  in  his  eyes  and 
a  strangely  preoccupied  manner.  The  distance 
they  had  to  go  was  more  than  a  mile,  yet  it  hardly 
sufficed  to  quiet  the  pounding  of  his  heart.  They 
turned  into  the  fatal  street  at  last,  and  Robert 
loitered  intentionally,  yet  the  dreaded  number 
came  nearer  and  nearer.  "Would  it  be  cowardly 
to  turn  and  run  away?  He  stood  at  the  very 
door,  but,  even  as  his  hand  reached  for  the 
knocker,  his  nerve  failed,  and  he  rushed  inglori- 
ously  to  the  street  and  to  his  friend  waiting  near 
by.  A  second  time  he  marched  up  to  the  door, 
but  scarcely  had  he  set  foot  upon  the  first  step 

35 


THE   MOFFAT S 


when  the  audacity  of  the  undertaking  came  over 
him,  and  he  fled  again.  To  gather  courage  he 
walked  up  and  down  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
strode  resolutely  to  the  door  and  knocked.  No 
sooner  was  the  deed  done  than  he  would  have 
given  a  thousand  pounds,  had  he  possessed  them, 
to  recall  the  act.  He  hoped,  oh,  how  he  hoped, 
that  Mr.  Eoby  would  not  be  at  home,  and  never 
again  would  he  be  trapped  into  such  presumption. 
At  that  moment  a  maid  opened  the  door,  and 
Robert  asked  in  a  faltering  voice,  "Is  Mr.  Roby 
within?"  '*Yes,"  was  the  reply,  and  he  was 
shown  into  the  parlor. 

A  few  moments  of  suspense  passed.  Then  a 
step  was  heard  in  the  hall,  and  the  man  whom  he 
both  dreaded  and  longed  to  see  entered  the  room. 
Not  so  formidable  was  he,  after  all, — just  a  frank, 
friendly  man  with  a  cordial  grip  of  the  hand. 
Robert  Moffat's  tale  was  simply  told,  and  Mr. 
Roby  listened  with  a  sympathetic  smile,  asking 
a  few  questions  now  and  then  to  encourage  him 
to  tell  of  his  experience  in  becoming  a  Christian, 
and  of  his  purpose  to  ''help  in  the  missionary 
cause,"  as  he  modestly  phrased  it.  He  carefully 
avoided  mention  of  the  fact  that  it  was  Mr.  Roby's 
36 


''FARE  THEE  WEEL" 


name  on  the  poster  which  had  led  him  to  his  house. 
The  outcome  was  that  Mr.  Roby  offered  to  write 
to  the  ''directors  of  the  society,"  as  he  called 
them,  to  see  if  they  would  accept  Robert  as  a  mis- 
sionary. He  would  report  their  reply  as  soon  as 
he  received  it. 

It  was  several  weeks  before  the  expected  letter 
reached  High  Leigh,  where  Robert  Moffat  had 
been  watching  daily  for  its  coming  with  a  boy's 
intolerance  of  delay.  He  tore  the  envelope  open, 
and  read : 

November  27,  1815. 
Dear  Sir: 

I  have  been  anxiously  waiting  for  an  answer  to  the  letter 
which  I  wrote  to  the  directors  of  the  Missionary  Society 
respecting  you  and  did  not  receive  it  till  this  morning.  It  in- 
forms me  that  at  present  they  have  so  many  applications  they 
cannot  receive  all  who  offer  their  services  for  missionary  work, 
and  are  therefore  obliged  to  select  those  who  possess  the  most 
promising  acquirements.  On  this  account  they  are  under  the 
necessity  of  declining  your  offer  at  present. 

What  a  blow  to  the  high  hopes  he  had  cherished 
during  those  weeks  of  waiting !  Why  had  he  not 
known  that  it  would  end  this  way,  when  he  had  so 
little  education  to  give  him  favor  in  their  eyes? 

37 


THE    31  OFF  ATS 


''Obliged  to  select  those  who  possess  the  most 
promising  acquirements!"  What  could  he  do  to 
attain  those  "promising  acquirements"?  Would 
Mr.  Roby  consider  his  case  lost  or  would  he  try 
some  other  way?    He  read  on: 

"  Nevertheless,  will  you  not  come  to  Manchester  and  let 
me  place  you  in  a  situation  near  by,  that  I  may  examine 
you  as  to  your  fitness  for  missionary  work?  " 

"Not  knowing  whither  he  went,"  so  far  as  his 
future  was  concerned,  Robert  Moffat  went  out 
from  the  garden  lodge  at  High  Leigh  and  jour- 
neyed again  over  the  road  to  Manchester  to  en- 
trust his  prospects  to  the  hands  of  a  man  he  had 
seen  only  twice,  but  in  whom  he  felt  a  sure  confi- 
dence, nevertheless.  When  he  reached  the  city, 
Mr.  Roby  took  him  to  one  and  another  of  his 
acquaintances,  seeking  a  position  in  a  bank,  mer- 
cantile house,  or  garden,  but  nowhere  was  an 
opening  to  be  found.  When  it  seemed  as  if  the 
quest  were  ended,  Mr.  Roby  turned  to  his  com- 
panion with  the  remark,  "I  have  still  one  friend 
who  employs  many  men,  to  whom  I  can  apply,  pro- 
vided you  are  willing  to  go  into  a  nursery  gar- 
den." 
38 


''FARE  THEE  WEEL" 


''Go?"  replied  Robert.  ''I  would  go  anywhere 
and  do  anything  for  which  I  may  have  ability. ' ' 

By  a  strange  coincidence,  which  made  it  seem 
afterwards  as  if  an  unseen  Power  were  directing 
the  course  of  the  young  Scotchman,  Mr.  James 
Smith  of  Dukinfield  was  in  the  city  that  day  and 
readily  consented  to  give  him  employment  in  his 
nursery  garden.  James  Smith  was  himself  a 
Scotchman  who  had  come  to  England  many  years 
before  and  established  a  prosperous  business  in 
the  suburbs  of  Manchester.  It  was  agreed  that 
Robert  should  start  to  work  at  the  beginning  of 
the  new  year,  and  Mr.  Smith  drove  home  that 
night  with  a  sense  of  satisfaction  that  he  had 
found  so  promising  a  workman,  but  with  a  curious 
feeling  of  uneasiness  when  he  thought  of  the 
comely  young  Scotchman  with  his  great  ambition, 
and  then  of  his  own  blue-eyed  Mary,  the  pride  of 
his  heart  and  the  idol  of  his  home.  '*We  are  safe 
for  the  present,"  said  he  to  himself  with  a  whim- 
sical smile,  ''for  the  missionary  society  has  re- 
fused him."  Thus  saying,  he  turned  into  the  lane 
and  saw  the  gleam  of  the  lamp  that  Mary  had 
lighted  for  his  home-coming. 

By  the  series  of  events  narrated,  Robert  Moffat 

39 


THE    MOFFATS 


had  been  led  from  the  cottage  at  Carronshore  to 
the  stone  house  at  Dukinfield,  there  to  meet  the 
supreme  test  of  his  love  and  loyalty.  It  was  deep 
winter,  with  its  frosts  and  snows  and  "cauld 
blasts,"  when  first  he  came  to  that  hospitable 
home  whose  friendly  fireside  welcomed  many  an 
interesting-  guest  from  near  and  far.  Though 
Mr.  Smith  was  a  staunch  non-conformist  and  his 
wife  belonged  to  the  Church  of  England,  they 
were  united  in  sincere  devotion  to  the  cause  of 
Christ  and  opened  their  home  freely  to  preachers 
and  missionaries  who  came  to  the  neighborhood. 
Their  only  daughter,  Mary,  was  a  girl  of  radiant 
energy,  whose  strong  personality  deeply  influ- 
enced the  social  life  of  her  home  and  community. 
She  had  an  ease  of  manner  and  a  readiness  of 
speech  which  sometimes  disconcerted  the  bashful 
young  Scotchman,  who  was  glad,  nevertheless,  to 
seek  her  society  whenever  occasion  permitted. 

Mary  Smith  had  spent  her  school-days  in  the 
little  town  of  Fairfield,  where  the  Moravians  had 
built  up  an  interesting  settlement  with  a  chapel 
and  school  at  its  heart.  Thus,  by  a  curious  coin- 
cidence, Robert  and  Mary  had  been  brought  under 
the  same  potent  influence,  the  one  by  the  fireside 
40 


''FARE  THEE  WEEL 


stories  of  his  childhood,  the  other  by  her  girlhood 
association  with  a  people  whose  ideals  have  been 
such  a  dynamic  in  the  history  of  the  Christian 
church.  In  both  cases  the  contact  was  determi- 
native of  their  futures.  At  the  Moravian  School 
Mary  Smith  had  come  to  think  no  career  on  earth 
quite  so  desirable  as  that  of  a  missionary.  So 
firmly  did  this  idea  fasten  itself  upon  her  mind, 
that  subsequently,  at  a  meeting  in  Manchester, 
she  whispered  a  prayer  that  God  would  send  her 
as  a  missionary,  perhaps  to  South  Africa,  if  he  so 
willed  it.  In  like  manner,  Robert  Moffat's  pur- 
pose had  its  origin  in  the  tales  of  the  Moravian 
heroes  which  his  mother  loved  to  tell. 

By  the  time  the  daffodils  began  to  bloom  in  the 
fields  and  the  scent  of  spring  was  in  the  air,  life 
was  becoming  perilously  sweet  for  the  two  young 
people  at  Dukinfield  nursery.  Across  the  hearth 
where  the  fire  still  burned  brightly  those  cool 
spring  evenings,  the  young  man  glanced  furtively 
toward  the  girl,  who  sat  by  her  work-table,  her 
fingers  flying  nimbly  over  her  work,  her  eyes 
sparkling  with  vivacity  as  she  talked  of  this 
theme  and  that.  Soon  there  followed  that  magic 
period  of  blossom  and  fragrance,  quaintly  called 

41 


THE    MOFFATS 


the  lilac  tide,  when,  hand  in  hand,  Robert  and 
Mary  strolled  in  the  garden  and  in  the  wood  back 
of  the  nursery,  talking  with  unending  interest  of 
those  years  in  the  life  of  each  when  the  other  was 
yet  a  stranger  and  touching  reverently  upon  their 
future,  which  as  yet  lay  unrevealed.  Upon  the 
glory  of  that  springtime,  summer  cast  a  disquiet- 
ing shadow. 

One  day  there  arrived  at  Dukinfield  a  message 
of  startling  import.  Robert  Moffat  had  been  ac- 
cepted by  the  London  Missionary  Society  and  was 
instructed  to  make  ready  for  sailing  within  a  few 
months  for  a  country  which  should  be  designated 
after  he  came  down  to  London.  Mr.  Roby  had 
persuaded  the  directors  to  accept  his  '^bonnie 
laddie,"  as  he  called  him,  who  might  not  possess 
a  college  degree,  but  who  had  within  him  the  stuff 
out  of  which  missionary  heroes  are  made. 

The  great  dream  of  Robert's  life  had  come  true, 
but  oh,  what  a  storm  of  conflict  its  realization 
brought!  He  wished  to  take  Mary  Smith  with 
him  as  his  beloved  bride,  and  she  said  it  would  be 
''worth  a  thousand  lives  "  to  go,  but  with  one  ac- 
cord her  father  and  mother  declared  she  should 
never  go  with  their  consent.  She  was  too  frail 
42 


''FARE  THEE  WEEL" 


to  endure  the  rigorous  life  of  a  pioneer,  ' '  the  diet 
hard  and  the  blanket  on  the  ground."  Moreover, 
how  could  two  lonely  people  face  old  age  with 
their  only  daughter  *'ten  thousand  mile"  away 
in  an  inaccessible  wilderness?  There  were  the 
three  boys,  to  be  sure,  but  what  son  could  take 
the  place  of  a  daughter  like  Mary?  In  those  days 
it  was  like  saying  a  lifelong  farewell  to  go  as  a 
missionary,  for  few  went  and  fewer  returned. 
Yet  Robert  must  go  and  Mary  must  stay,  and  God 
alone  could  nerve  them  for  the  sacrifice. 

With  a  heavy  but  resolute  heart  Robert  left 
Dukinfield  to  lodge  in  Manchester  near  Mr.  Roby, 
who  was  giving  him  final  instructions  before  he 
should  go  down  to  London  to  receive  his  appoint- 
ment from  the  missionary  society.  On  September 
13,  1816,  having  said  the  last  good-bys  up  in  the 
little  cottage  in  Scotland  and,  hardest  of  all,  in 
the  dear  old  house  at  Dukinfield,  he  took  the  coach 
which  bore  him  away  from  the  associations  he 
loved  best  in  life,  down  over  the  long  road  which 
led  at  last  to  London.  ' '  Oh,  that  I  had  a  thousand 
lives  and  a  thousand  bodies!"  wrote  Robert  Mof- 
fat to  his  parents  after  visiting  the  London  mu- 
seum, where  the  idols  worshiped  in  China,  Africa, 

43 


THE    MOFFAT S 


and  the  South  Seas  were  exhibited.  "All  of  them 
should  be  devoted  to  no  other  employment  but  to 
preach  Christ  to  those  degraded,  despised,  yet 
beloved  mortals.  I  have  not  repented  in  becom- 
ing a  missionary,  and,  should  I  die  in  the  march 
and  never  enter  the  field  of  battle,  all  would  be 
well." 

On  the  last  day  of  September  a  farewell  service 
was  held  in  Surrey  Chapel  for  the  nine  young 
men  who  were  to  be  dedicated  to  the  unfinished 
task  which  Jesus  Christ  began.  It  had  been  pro- 
posed that  John  AVilliams  and  Robert  Moffat 
should  be  sent  to  Polynesia,  but  a  Scotch  minister 
interposed,  saying,  "Thae  twa  lads  are  ower 
young  to  gang  thegither."  Thus  John  Williams 
went  to  the  South  Seas,  to  become  in  later  years 
the  first  martyr  of  Erromanga,  and  Robert  Mof- 
fat— we  shall  see  what  befell  him  and  what  he 
achieved  in  the  mysterious  regions  of  South 
Africa. 

It  was  the  middle  of  October  before  the  little 
party  of  missionaries  embarked  at  Gravesend  on 
the  ship  Alacrity,  a  name  which  became  a  mockery 
before  the  tedious  voyage  of  eighty-six  days  was 
over.  In  the  Downs  the  pilot-boat  turned  back, 
44 


"FARE  THEE  WEEL" 


bringing  those  last  precious  letters  from  the  out- 
bound ship  up  to  a  little  family  group  in  Scotland 
and  to  a  brave-hearted  girl  at  the  Dukinfield 
nursery.  For  her,  that  autumn  was  gray  with 
loneliness  and  poignant  with  the  sting  of  associa- 
tions which  the  old  familiar  places  forever  sug- 
gested. Every  spot  was  memory-haunted,  the 
lane,  the  fireside,  and  the  garden  walks.  Those 
empty  places  where  Robert  was  wont  to  be,  how 
they  brought  the  dull  ache  to  her  heart  and  the 
quiver  to  her  lips!  In  God's  infinite  compassion 
would  he  some  time  bring  together,  across  the 
widening  distance,  two  young  lives  which  belonged 
side  by  side? 


45 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  KEAAL  OF  AFRIKANER 
THE  OUTLAW 

The  tumult  and  the  shouting  dies; 
The  captains  and  the  kings  depart; 
Still  stands  thine  ancient  sacrifice, 
An  humble  and  a  contrite  heart. 
Lord  God  of  Hosts,  be  with  us  yet, 
Lest  we  forget — lest  we  forget! 

— Budyard  Kipling, 


"the  man 

MOST 

TALKED 

ABOUT 

AND    MOST 

FEARED 

TN    ALL 

AFRICA." 


IV 

THE  KEAAL  OF  AFRIKANER 
THE  OUTLAW 


UT    the    servants,   where    are    the    ser- 
vants 1 ' '  inquired  a  firm  young  voice. 

''Servants?    What   do   you   mean?" 
was  the  gruff  reply. 

*'I  mean  the  Hottentots,  of  whom  I 
see  so  many  on  your  farm." 
''Hottentots!"  cried  the  farmer  with  a  sneer. 
"Do  you  mean  that,  then?  Let  me  go  to  the 
mountains  and  call  the  baboons,  if  you  want  a 
congregation  of  that  sort.  Or  stop,  I  have  it; 
my  sons,  call  the  dogs  that  lie  in  front  of  the 
door;  they  will  do." 

Supper  was  over  in  the  comfortable  Boer  home- 
stead in  South  Africa,  where  Robert  Moffat  was 
stopping  for  a  night's  hospitality  on  his  way  from 
the  coast  to  the  interior.  The  farmer,  upon  hear- 
ing that  he  was  a  missionary,  had  proposed  that 
he  hold  a  service  for  the  family  at  the  close  of  the 
evening  meal.  The  big  Bible  and  psalm-book  had 
just  been  produced  when  he  electrified  the  com- 

49 


THE    MOFFATS 


pany  by  asking  for  the  Hottentot  slaves.  Seeing 
that  his  request  was  unpopular,  Robert  ceased  to 
press  it  and  quietly  began  the  service.  After  the 
psalm  had  been  sung,  he  led  in  prayer  and  then 
opened  his  Bible  to  the  story  of  the  Syrophenician 
woman  and  read.  His  voice  was  clear  and  vibrant 
as  he  came  to  the  words,  ''Yea,  Lord,  for  even  the 
dogs  eat  of  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  their  mas- 
ter's table."  He  went  on  to  speak,  but  presently 
the  voice  of  the  old  man,  his  host,  interrupted :  "  If 
Mynheer  will  sit  down  and  wait  a  little,  he  shall 
have  the  Hottentots."  The  order  was  given,  and 
the  strange  brown  figures  came  trooping  in,  half 
dazed  at  the  novel  experience  of  being  inside  their 
master's  house  and  listening  to  a  religious  ser- 
vice. After  his  arrival  in  Cape  Town  in  January, 
Robert  Moffat  had  been  detained  several  months 
awaiting  permission  from  the  government  to 
locate  beyond  the  boundaries  of  Cape  Colony. 
During  this  time  he  had  lived  in  the  family  of  a 
Dutch  farmer  and  learned  to  speak  the  language, 
an  acquisition  which  served  him  well  in  situations 
like  the  present.  When  the  service  was  over  and 
the  Hottentots  had  scattered  to  their  quarters,  the 
farmer  turned  to  his  guest  and  said,  ''My  friend, 
50 


THE  KRAAL  OF  AFRIKANER  THE  OUTLAW 

you  took  a  hard  hammer,  and  you  have  broken  a 
hard  head." 

On  the  morrow  Kobert  resumed  his  journey, 
which  had  begun  in  Cape  Town  and  was  to  termi- 
nate in  the  sandy,  sunburnt  wilderness  north  of  the 
Orange  Eiver  in  the  kraal,  or  village,  of  Afrikaner, 
the  outlaw.  As  he  approached  the  borders  of  Cape 
Colony,  signs  of  habitation  decreased,  the  Boer 
homesteads  became  fewer  and  farther  apart,  and 
the  great  isolation  beyond  the  frontier  of  British 
rule  cast  its  shadow  before.  Whenever  he  stopped 
for  a  night's  rest  at  the  lonely  Dutch  farmhouses, 
he  listened  to  grisly  descriptions  of  the  fate  he 
was  sure  to  meet  at  the  hands  of  that  desperado, 
Afrikaner. 

''He  will  set  you  up  for  a  mark  for  his  boys 
to  shoot  at,"  declared  one  farmer  with  sinister 
emphasis. 

' '  He  will  strip  off  your  skin  and  make  a  drum  of 
it  to  dance  to,"  said  another. 

"He  will  make  a  drinking  cup  of  your  skull," 
predicted  a  third. 

"Had  you  been  an  old  man,  it  would  have  been 
nothing,"  bewailed  a  motherly  dame,  wiping  the 
tears  from  her  eyes,  "for  you  would  soon  have 

51 


TEE    MOFFAT S 


died,  whether  or  no ;  but  you  are  young  and  going 
to  be  a  prey  to  that  monster." 

Robert  Moffat  listened  to  these  gruesome  pre- 
dictions with  a  whimsical  smile  upon  his  lips,  but 
with  some  misgiving  in  his  heart,  nevertheless. 

Now  this  Afrikaner  was  a  notorious  outlaw,  as 
desperate  and  high-handed  as  were  the  Doones  of 
England  or  Black  Roderick  of  Scotland.  His  very 
name  was  a  bogy  to  women  and  children  and  a 
living  terror  to  strong  men.  In  every  village 
there  was  a  ' '  trembling  lest  he  should  pay  them  a 
visit." 

There  had  been  a  time,  in  the  changing  history 
of  South  Africa,  when  the  proud  Afrikaner  family 
roamed  at  will  over  their  native  hills  and  plains 
within  one  hundred  miles  of  Cape  Town.  The 
flocks  and  the  game  were  theirs,  the  pastures  and 
streams  were  their  undisputed  possession,  and 
their  wild  songs  mingled  with  the  winds  which 
swept  over  Witsemberg  and  Winterhoek  moun- 
tains, once  the  strongholds  of  their  clan.  But  the 
white  man  had  already  obtained  a  footing  in  the 
country,  and  the  old  story  of  usurpation  and  ex- 
termination had  begun.  In  1652,  Dutch  settlers, 
expelled  from  South  America,  landed  in  South 
52 


THE  KRAAL  OF  AFRIKANER  THE  OUTLAW 

Africa  and  founded  Cape  Town.  As  their  num- 
bers increased,  they  encroached  upon  the  domains 
of  the  native  tribes,  sometimes  seizing  whole  dis- 
tricts and  forcing  the  poor  Hottentots  into  flight 
toward  the  wilderness,  or  else  into  slavery  on  the 
Dutch  plantations.  Jager  Afrikaner,  the  eldest 
son,  who  had  succeeded  to  the  chieftainship,  be- 
came, with  his  depleted  clan,  the  vassals  of  a 
Dutch  farmer  who  knew  neither  sense  nor  mercy 
in  dealing  with  his  high-spirited  victims.  Insult 
and  cruelty  were  heaped  upon  them,  until,  pro- 
voked beyond  endurance,  they  rebelled,  murdered 
the  farmer,  and  escaped,  with  the  remnant  of  their 
tribe,  to  the  banks  of  the  Orange  River,  where  they 
defied  approach. 

From  that  day  Afrikaner  became  the  menace 
not  only  of  the  colony  on  the  south,  but  also  of 
the  native  tribes  on  the  north.  A  price  was  put 
upon  his  head  by  the  Cape  government.  Com- 
mandos were  sent  out  for  his  capture,  but  he 
shrewdly  resisted  them  all.  A  chief  in  Great 
Namaqualand  ceded  his  dominion  to  Afrikaner,  so 
that  he  ruled  by  right  as  well  as  conquest.  In- 
born sagacity  directed  his  tactics  of  warfare, 
which  were  almost  invariably  successful,  though 

53 


TEE   MO F FATS 


the  odds  were  ten  to  one.  On  one  occasion,  a  hos- 
tile chief,  bribed  by  the  Dutch  farmers  to  trap 
Afrikaner,  carried  off  every  ox  and  cow  belonging 
to  him,  leaving  only  a  few  calves  in  the  stall. 
Afrikaner  coolly  plotted  a  swift  and  thorough  re- 
venge. He  met  his  enemy  in  battle  and  for  a 
whole  day  fought  doggedly  with  the  larger  army, 
recovering  his  cattle  once  and  again,  only  to  lose 
them  as  often.  Toward  night  he  led  his  small 
band  of  followers  back  to  their  kraal,  where  they 
killed  the  remaining  calves  and  rested  two  days 
while  the  flesh  was  drying  in  the  sun.  Having 
thus  secured  their  provisions,  they  set  forth,  stole 
warily  along  the  northern  bank  of  the  Orange 
River,  located  the  enemy  on  the  opposite  shore  by 
means  of  spies,  and  proceeded  to  a  point  beyond 
their  encampment.  In  the  dead  of  night  they 
swam  across  stream,  clothes  and  ammunition  tied 
on  their  heads,  guns  on  their  shoulders.  By  this 
stratagem  they  came  upon  the  enemy  from  an  un- 
expected direction,  flung  stones  upon  their  huts 
to  rouse  them  from  sleep,  shot  swift  arrows  upon 
them  as  they  came  tumbling  out,  and  before  the 
startled  warriors  could  recover  their  senses,  fired 
such  a  volley  of  musketry  upon  them  that  they 
54 


THE  KRAAL  OF  AFRIKANER  THE  OUTLAW 

believed  themselves  attacked  by  an  armed  host  and 
fled  in  confusion,  leaving  the  stolen  cattle,  and 
their  own  as  well,  in  Afrikaner's  possession. 

Titus  Afrikaner,  a  younger  brother,  surpassed 
even  the  chief  himself  in  fearlessness  and 
ferocity.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  he  would  take 
his  gun,  plunge  into  a  deep  pool  in  the  river,  swim 
to  a  rock  just  above  the  water,  and  there  sit  await- 
ing the  approach  of  a  hippopotamus,  which  he 
would  shoot  at  the  precise  moment  that  the 
creature  opened  his  great  jaws  to  swallow  him. 
He  would  smile  deliberately  when  a  lion  lay  dead 
at  his  feet.  Once  only  did  he  admit  the  entrance 
of  anything  resembling  fear  into  his  life.  For 
hours  he  had  been  struggling  to  wrest  a  herd  of 
cattle  from  the  possession  of  his  enemy.  The 
cattle  themselves,  together  with  the  bushes, 
formed  a  screen  which  hid  the  two  combatants 
from  each  other.  Suddenly  a  movement  among 
the  herd  made  an  oi>ening  through  which  each 
man  saw  his  foe.  Rifles  were  leveled,  and  fingers 
pressed  the  triggers.  Just  then  a  cow  walked  in 
between  the  fighters  and  two  balls  lodged  simul- 
taneously in  her  body,  killing  her  instantly.  Had 
it  not  been  for  this  uncanny  interposition,  both 

55 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


men  would  have  been  killed,  for  they  were  deadly 
marksmen.  In  after  years  Robert  Moffat  alluded 
to  this  incident,  which  he  had  heard  from  both 
parties,  and  spoke  of  the  direct  way  God  had  in- 
tervened to  save  the  two  lives.  Titus  Afrikaner 
replied,  **  Mynheer  knows  how  to  use  the  only 
hammer  which  can  make  my  hard  heart  feel." 

Such  was  the  dreaded  tribe  of  Afrikaner,  to 
whose  kraal  the  directors  of  the  London  Mission- 
ary Society  were  sending  their  new  missionary, 
Robert  Moffat.  The  dread  was  mitigated  in  his 
case,  however,  because  he  believed,  as  the  Dutch 
farmers  did  not,  the  almost  incredible  story  of 
Afrikaner's  conversion  to  the  Christian  religion. 
In  1806  English  missionaries  had  crossed  the 
Orange  River  and  settled  at  a  place  perilously 
near  the  kraal  of  Afrikaner,  the  outlaw.  Not 
long  after  their  arrival,  they  were  astounded  to 
see  the  chief  himself  approaching  and  to  hear  his 
frank  greeting,  **As  you  are  sent  by  the  English, 
I  welcome  you  to  the  country;  for,  though  I  hate 
the  Dutch,  my  former  oppressors,  I  love  the  Eng- 
lish, for  I  have  always  heard  that  they  are  the 
friends  of  the  poor  black  man." 

From  the  first,  Afrikaner  seemed  to  be  im- 
56 


THE  KRAAL  OF  AFRIKANER  THE  OUTLAW 

pressed  with  the  sincerity  of  the  two  Albrecht 
brothers,  the  pioneer  missionaries  in  this  region. 
He  sent  his  children  to  them  for  instruction,  and, 
when  he  heard  they  were  planning  to  remove  to 
another  locality,  he  sent  repeated  messages  and 
finally  came  in  person  to  beg  them  not  to  go  away. 
On  several  occasions  Afrikaner  and  his  tribesmen 
were  attentive  listeners  while  the  missionaries,  in 
broken  Dutch,  tried  to  explain  the  simplest  mean- 
ings of  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  Friendly  re- 
lations were  growing  steadily,  when  the  tribes  liv- 
ing at  the  station  of  Warmbad  became  frightened 
and  jealous  and  forced  Afrikaner  to  withdraw  to 
his  own  kraal.  Subsequently  misunderstandings 
and  quarrels  sprang  up  among  the  tribes.  Afri- 
kaner returned  to  his  old  career  of  pillage  and 
bloodshed,  while  the  missionaries  lived  in  hourly 
terror  of  his  attack,  hiding  for  a  week  in  a  hole 
dug  in  the  ground,  covered  by  the  tilt-sail  of  the 
wagon  as  shield  from  the  burning  sun.  In  the 
end  they  were  compelled  to  flee  for  safety,  while 
Afrikaner  and  his  men  plundered  and  burned  the 
mission  property  and,  in  the  midst  of  their  rav- 
ages, met  with  the  weirdest  adventure  which  ever 
befell  an  African  savage  on  the  war-path.    An 

57 


THE    MOFFATS 


attendant  of  the  chief  had  wandered  into  the  tiny 
burying-ground.  Stepping  over  a  mound  which 
seemed  to  be  a  newly  covered  grave,  he  stood  still 
in  horror,  for  from  the  depths  of  the  earth  beneath 
his  feet  came  forth  tones  of  music  clear  and  un- 
mistakable. Were  the  dead  preparing  to  rise 
from  the  grave,  as  the  missionaries  had  said  they 
would?  Not  waiting  for  the  apparition  to  appear 
he  ran  swiftly  to  the  camp  of  Afrikaner,  his  chief. 
Now  Afrikaner  had  no  fear  of  living  or  dead,  so 
he  summoned  his  followers  and  sped  to  the  spot. 
One  and  another  jumped  upon  the  mound,  and 
louder  and  clearer  sounded  the  sepulchral  music. 
They  took  their  spades,  uncovered  the  earth,  and 
there  in  the  dry  soil,  where,  but  for  this  rude  dis- 
turbance, it  might  have  lain  safely  hidden  until  the 
return  of  the  missionaries,  was  Mrs.  Albrecht's 
piano,  brought  all  the  way  from  London.  Curious 
fingers  dissected  the  instrument,  fragments  of 
which  helped  tell  the  half -comic,  half -pathetic  tale 
to  Robert  Moffat  when  he  reached  Afrikaner's 
kraal  several  years  later. 

In  course  of  time  Christian  Albrecht  returned 
to  the  Namaqua  region,  though  both  his  wife 
and  his  brother  had  died  from  the  hardships 
58 


THE  KRAAL  OF  AFRIKANER  THE  OUTLAW 

they  had  suffered  there.  At  a  spot  south  of  the 
river,  called  Pella,  a  place  of  refuge,  he  reestab- 
lished the  mission  and  there  worked  and  prayed 
for  the  conversion  of  Afrikaner,  his  enemy.  Just 
before  he  left  the  country  to  go  again  to  the  Cape, 
where  he  died  shortly  after,  he  had  the  joy  of 
reconciliation  with  Afrikaner  and  the  assurance 
that  the  outlaw  chief  was  ready  to  listen  to  a  mes- 
sage of  peace  and  good-will  quite  contrary  to  his 
life  of  plunder  and  bloodshed. 

Because  he  had  faith  in  this  story  of  Afrikaner's 
readiness  to  hear  the  gospel,  Robert  Moffat  jour- 
neyed to  the  famous  kraal  with  more  of  hopeful- 
ness than  misgiving  tinging  his  expectations.  But 
all  speculations  regarding  his  welcome  at  Afri- 
kaner's kraal  were  soon  forgotten  in  the  events 
of  the  journey  itself,  which  was  every  day  becom- 
ing more  of  a  problem  and  a  peril. 

At  Bysondermeid  Eobert  parted  from  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Kitchingham,  who  had  been  his  companions 
all  the  way  from  England.  In  a  native  cart 
drawn  by  several  yoke  of  oxen,  accompanied  by 
three  native  servants,  he  set  out  across  an  un- 
broken desert,  a  real  missionary  on  the  real  trail 
at  last !    The  first  night  they  jolted  through  such 

59 


THE    MOFFATS 


deep  sand  that  the  oxen  lay  down  exhausted  in  the 
yoke  before  they  reached  that  goal  of  every  day's 
journey — water. 

The  next  day  they  resumed  the  trek,  as  the 
Boers  call  a  cross-country  journey,  and  reached 
the  spot  where  a  fountain  or  spring  was  supposed 
to  be,  to  find  not  a  drop  of  water !  It  was  evident 
that  they  would  die  of  thirst  if  they  continued  in 
that  direction,  so  at  the  suggestion  of  the  native 
guide  they  swerved  northward  and  faced  a  barren 
desert  where  not  a  blade  of  green  grass  and 
scarcely  a  bush  w^ere  to  be  seen.  Toward  night 
men  and  beasts  were  again  prostrated  with  thirst 
and  heat  and  dropped  upon  the  sand,  which  was 
still  hot  from  the  noonday  sun.  Thirst  awakened 
the  men  at  break  of  day  and  drove  them  to  the 
nearest  mountain  upon  a  frantic  search  for  water. 
After  digging  and  digging  in  the  loose  sand,  they 
came  upon  a  trickling  stream  of  dirty  water,  like 
the  bilge  water  of  an  old  ship.  Men  and  oxen 
drank  greedily  and  were  ready  for  a  second 
draught  before  they  had  secured  enough  to  go 
around  and  to  fill  the  small  vessels  they  had 
brought  with  them.  When  they  started  to  go 
back  to  the  wagons,  the  sun  was  high  in  the  sky, 
60 


THE  KRAAL  OF  AFRIKANER  THE  OUTLAW 

and  the  sand  was  like  a  red-hot  stove.  The  oxen 
went  wild  and  ran  until  they  came  to  a  slightly 
hardened  bit  of  sand,  where  they  crowded  to- 
gether, trying  to  cool  their  hoofs  in  the  shade  of 
their  own  bodies,  those  on  the  outside  struggling 
to  get  into  the  center.  At  last  the  merciless  sun 
went  down,  and  they  began  to  yoke  the  oxen  for 
another  journey  by  night,  when  to  their  consterna- 
tion they  found  that  most  of  the  herd  had  run 
away  toward  Bysondermeid.  A  man  was  sent  in 
pursuit,  but  at  midnight  he  returned  to  report 
that  lions  and  thirst  compelled  him  to  give  up 
the  search.  A  perilous  situation  it  was!  Not  a 
moment  was  to  be  lost.  At  once  Robert  dispatched 
two  of  the  men  with  the  remaining  oxen  to  the 
next  fountain,  instructing  them  to  go  on  to  Pella 
and  secure  assistance  from  Mr.  Bartlett,  the  mis- 
sionary there. 

For  three  days  Robert  and  his  wagon-driver 
waited  on  that  glaring,  sun-baked  desert.  Not  a 
single  human  being  nor  beast  of  prey  appeared  in 
sight,  although  in  the  night  the  roar  of  lions 
sounded  from  the  mountain  where  they  went  twice 
a  day  for  water.  Tufts  of  dry  grass  supplied  the 
fire  for  cooking  their  food,  but,  alas,  there  was 

61 


THE   MOFFATS 


little  food  to  cook !  Hunger,  thirst,  heat,  and  the 
sight  of  that  monstrous  desolation  seemed  enough 
to  drive  one  mad!  They  were  just  beginning  to 
fear  that  the  men  they  had  sent  for  help  were  lost 
or  dead,  when  three  shapes  appeared  on  the 
horizon,  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  at  length 
resolved  themselves  into  Mr.  Bartlett  and  two 
men  on  horseback,  with  huge  flanks  of  mutton 
fastened  to  their  saddles.  Never  did  a  hungry 
boy  look  upon  a  Thanksgiving  dinner  with  such 
real  thanksgiving  in  his  heart  as  did  Kobert  upon 
that  mutton,  though  it  was  killed  but  the  evening 
before.  Mr.  Bartlett,  who  was  inured  to  African 
temperature,  declared  that  the  heat  Robert  had 
endured  was  enough  to  set  the  grass  on  fire. 

After  fresh  oxen,  accustomed  to  deep  sand,  ar- 
rived, they  journeyed  on  to  Pella,  well  named  *'a 
place  of  refuge."  Here  our  young  missionary 
found  the  rest  and  encouragement  he  needed  in 
the  kindness  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bartlett  and  the 
native  Christians.  As  he  was  making  ready  for 
a  fresh  start  northward,  the  native  teacher  from 
TVarmbad,  named  Magerman,  came  to  Pella  to  beg 
and  implore  the  new  missionary  to  locate  in  his 
village.  It  was  difificult  to  resist  his  entreaties, 
62 


THE  KEAAL  OF  AFRIKANER  THE  OUTLAW 

but  Robert  Moffat  was  honor  bound,  so  he  told 
him  to  go  first  to  Afrikaner's  kraal,  because  the 
directors  in  London  had  promised  Afrikaner  a 
missionary.  At  last  Magerman  consented  to 
escort  him  across  the  Orange  Eiver,  but  warily 
chose  a  ford  opposite  Warmbad,  hoping  the  vil- 
lagers would  come  and  take  him  by  force  to  be 
their  missionary. 

At  the  river  bank  rafts  were  made  of  dry  willow 
logs,  six  feet  long,  tied  together  with  the  inner 
bark  of  the  mimosa  tree.  It  was  a  task  of  sev- 
eral days  to  transport  wagon  and  contents  piece- 
meal across  the  stream,  which  at  this  point  was 
five  hundred  yards  wide  and  perilous  with  rocks 
and  swift  current.  As  the  moment  approached 
when  Robert  was  to  cross,  he  slipped  away  down 
the  wooded  bank  and  plunged  into  the  water,  pre- 
ferring his  own  strong  strokes  to  the  slippery 
raft.  As  he  swam  toward  the  center  where  the 
current  was  swiftest,  the  onlookers  became 
alarmed  and  dispatched  expert  swimmers  to  over- 
take him,  but  this  they  tried  in  vain  to  do.  He  had 
barely  reached  the  opposite  shore  when  a  man 
came  running  toward  him,  exclaiming  breath- 
lessly, ''Were  you  born  in  the  great  sea  water?" 

63 


TEE   MOFFAT S 


No  sooner  had  the  wagon  and  its  contents  been 
landed  in  a  place  of  safety  beyond  the  reach  of 
sudden  floods,  before  Robert  Moffat  was  fairly 
mobbed  by  a  crowd  of  excited  people  who  claimed 
him  as  their  missionary.  The  next  day  entreaties 
were  renewed  with  such  force,  that  it  was  after- 
noon before  he  could  snatch  a  bite  to  eat.  As  a 
climax,  the  women  came  en  masse,  declaring  that 
if  he  went  away  from  Warmbad  he  would  have  to 
go  over  their  dead  bodies,  for  they  would  lie  down 
before  the  wheels  of  his  wagon.  Again  and  again 
he  told  them  he  was  in  duty  bound  to  go  to  Afri- 
kaner, because  the  promise  had  been  given.  The 
long  parley  was  brought  to  an  abrupt  end  by  the 
arrival  of  a  band  of  men  from  Afrikaner's  kraal, 
led  by  three  brothers  of  the  chief  and  sent  as  an 
escort  for  the  missionary.  The  poor,  disappointed 
people  of  Warmbad  scattered  in  dismay,  for  who 
would  dare  oppose  the  will  of  the  Afrikaners  ? 

On  January  26,  1818,  four  months  from  the 
time  he  left  Cape  Town,  and  more  than  a  year 
since  he  sailed  from  England,  Robert  Moffat  came 
to  the  goal  of  his  journey,  the  kraal  of  Afrikaner, 
the  outlaw.  As  his  wagon  creaked  into  the  vil- 
lage of  huts  shaded  by  the  mimosa  trees,  the 
64 


THE  KRAAL  OF  AFRIKANER  THE  OUTLAW 

chief's  brother  led  it  to  a  large  tree  some  distance 
from  the  hut  of  Mr.  Ebner,  a  missionary  who  had 
already  come  to  the  kraal,  and  who  was  to  be 
Robert's  associate.  Robert  was  considerably 
puzzled  by  this  move,  but  waited  quietly  to  see 
what  would  happen  next,  his  uneasiness  increas- 
ing in  proportion  to  the  chief's  delay  in  comiifg 
to  greet  him.  It  was  an  exciting  moment  for  Rob- 
ert Moffat,  the  dramatic  climax  of  all  his  adven- 
tures, when,  after  an  hour  of  suspense,  he  stood  in 
the  presence  of  Afrikaner,  the  man  most  talked' 
about  and  most  feared  in  all  South  Africa.  ''Two 
strong  men  stood  face  to  face"  in  that  moment, 
and  they  had  come  literally  ''from  the  ends  of  the 
earth,"  in  experience  as  well  as  geography,  to 
meet  in  this  African  wilderness  where  the  mettle 
of  each  was  to  be  tested. 

"Are  you  the  missionary  appointed  by  the 
directors  of  London  ? ' '  inquired  the  chief  after  the 
usual  salutation.  Upon  receiving  an  affirmative 
reply,  he  looked  pleased  and  said,  "You  are 
young ;  I  hope  you  will  live  long  with  me  and  my 
people."  He  then  turned  and  gave  orders  for  a 
number  of  women  to  attend  upon  him.  As  soon 
as  they  appeared  with  their  bundles  of  native 

65 


THE    MOFFATS 


mats  and  long  sticks,  he  pointed  to  a  spot  of 
ground  and  said,  "There  you  must  build  a  house 
for  the  missionary."  A  circle  was  formed,  poles 
were  thrust  into  the  ground  and  tied  down,  straw 
mats  were  stretched  over  them  and  fastened  an(i 
lo!  in  the  space  of  half  an  hour  the  missionary's 
house  was  complete.  No  door,  no  window,  no 
chimney,  a  flimsy  protection  of  sticks  and  straws 
from  sun,  rain,  and  wind,  and  from  hungry  dogs 
and  serpents,  but  home  for  he  knew  not  how  long ! 
A  real  missionary  in  a  real  African  hut  with  a 
real  "ten  thousand  mile"  between  him  and  the 
stone  house  at  the  end  of  the  lane  in  Dukinfield! 
Was  it  a  wild  hope  conjured  out  of  his  great  need, 
that  some  day  the  fair  daughter  of  that  house 
would  leave  her  English  home  and  come  to  dwell 
with  a  lonely  missionary  in  a  far-away  African 
kraal?  What  then  would  isolation  and  hardship 
matter,  compared  with  the  peace  his  heart  would 
know  in  her  presence  ? 


66 


CHAPTER   V 

**TWO   STRONG   MEN   STAND   FACE 
TO  FACE" 

And  it  came  to  pass  .  .  .  that  the  soul  of  Jonathan  was  knit 
with  the  soul  of  David,  and  Jonathan  loved  him  as  his  own  soul. 

— 1  Samuel  xviii.  1. 


"  WITH   A 

FEELING   OF 

tJTTER 

DESOLATION, 

BOUERT 

WATCHED  THE 

OX-WAGON 

DISAPPEAE 

IN    THE 

DESERT." 


'TWO  STRONG  MEN  STAND  FACE 
TO  FACE" 


Awake,  my  soul,  in  joyful  lays 
To  sing  the  great  Redeemer's  praise. 

BOYISH  voice  sang  the  words  to  the 
accompaniment  of  a  violin,  while  the 
granite  rocks  caught  the  tones  and 
tossed  fragments  of  song  into  the  vil- 
lage of  huts  in  the  valley  below.  The 
evening  glow  fell  upon  the  singer, 
who  leaned  against  a  huge  boulder  as  he  sang  and 
played  his  violin.  It  was  a  brave  song  out  of 
the  depths  of  a  brave  young  heart  which  needed 
all  the  solace  his  mother's  favorite  hymn  could 
give.  As  his  Master  went  alone  to  the  mountains 
and  desert  places  of  Judea  to  pray,  so  Robert 
Moffat  was  wont  to  go  to  the  barren,  rocky  places 
above  the  African  kraal  to  think  and  pray,  and 
sometimes  to  break  into  victorious  song.  His 
daily  problems  were  so  heavy  and  his  prospects 
so  black,  that  he  was  prone  to  wonder  if  "he  had 

69 


THE   3I0FFATS 


run  unsent"  or  if  God  had  surely  guided  him  to 
this  forsaken  spot  in  the  wilderness.  But  as  his 
thoughts  trailed  back  over  the  long  journey  and 
the  experiences  which  had  befallen  him  in  Eng- 
land, he  felt  sure  that  at  every  turn  he  had  heard 
the  still,  small  voice  saying,  ''This  is  the  way; 
walk  ye  in  it." 

In  Afrikaner's  kraal  the  missionaries  found 
themselves  in  sorry  plight.  Every  day  brought 
fresh  hints  of  impending  disaster.  ''My  inex- 
perienced hand  trembled  to  touch  a  single  chord," 
wrote  Robert  Moffat  afterwards,  "lest  it  should 
vibrate  in  sounds  more  discordant  than  those 
which  fell  on  my  ear  the  preceding  day."  The 
chief,  now  called  Christian  Afrikaner,  treated  the 
missionaries  with  icy  reserve,  while  Titus,  his 
brother,  was  an  open  enemy  of  all  missionaries 
and  of  Mr.  Ebner  in  particular.  Taking  his  stand 
before  his  hut,  while  the  whole  village  flocked  to 
the  scene,  he  hurled  the  most  insulting  language 
at  the  missionary  and  ordered  him  to  leave  the 
place  on  penalty  of  physical  violence.  In  distress, 
Robert  Moffat  went  to  the  chief  and  besought  him, 
as  a  fellow  Christian,  to  stop  the  disorderly  con- 
duct of  his  brother.  He  appeared  curiously 
70 


"  TWO  STRONG  MEN  STAND  FACE  TO  FACE  " 

unwilling  to  take  part  in  the  affair,  though  promis- 
ing to  prevent  a  personal  assault  upon  the  mis- 
sionary. Robert  then  drew  Mr.  Ebner  aside  and 
begged  him  not  to  try  to  argue  with  a  man  so 
crazed  with  rage.  As  a  last  resort  he  ventured 
to  speak  to  Titus  himself,  asking  him  to  refer  the 
matter  to  the  chief.  "I  hope  you  will  not  inter- 
fere," replied  Titus  calmly.  His  only  recourse 
then  was  to  sit  down  before  Mr.  Ebner 's  hut  to 
protect  the  wife  and  children,  should  Titus  resort 
to  blows. 

It  was  almost  sundown  before  the  savage  fury 
of  Titus  spent  itself  and  he  moved  away,  obdurate 
and  sulky.  Later  in  the  evening  Mr.  Ebner  came 
to  Robert  and  asked  him  to  assume  entire  charge 
of  the  mission,  as  he  had  resolved  to  leave  the 
country.  Seeing  that  he  was  unduly  excited,  Rob- 
ert urged  him  to  wait  a  few  days  before  deciding 
finally.  Meanwhile,  he  approached  Titus  Afri- 
kaner and  drew  from  him  something  like  a 
promise  not  to  molest  the  missionary  again.  Even 
with  this  assurance  the  decision  of  Mr.  Ebner 
could  not  be  altered,  and  Robert  saw  his  only  mis- 
sionary companions  making  ready  to  depart.  The 
exit  was  made  in  fear  lest  Titus  should  attack 

71 


THE   MOFFATS 


them  beyond  the  village  limits,  for  rumor  had  it 
that,  but  for  Robert  Moffat's  presence,  a  second 
attack  would  have  been  made  then  and  there. 
With  a  feeling  of  utter  desolation,  Robert  watched 
the  ox-wagon  creep  out  between  the  rocks  and  dis- 
appear in  the  desert,  leaving  him  alone  with  Afri- 
kaner and  his  tribe! 

AVas  it  strange  that  he  withdrew  to  the  rocky 
outskirts  of  the  village  to  pray  for  strength  to 
carry  the  burdens  of  the  day?  For  a  man  not  yet 
twenty-three  years  of  age,  the  responsibility  was 
appalling !  The  people  were  suspicious  and  jeal- 
ous by  nature,  and  their  wild  life  had  accentuated 
these  traits  until  they  became  ruling  passions. 
The  best  of  them  had  been  described  as  ''sharp 
thorns."  The  land  upon  which  their  kraal  was 
built  was  barren  and  unfruitful,  yielding  no  grain 
and  little  prospect  of  any,  because  of  scarcity  of 
water  for  irrigation.  There  was  no  way  of  send- 
ing to  the  Cape  for  supplies,  and,  even  if  there 
had  been,  Robert  had  no  money  with  which  to  buy 
them,  for  his  meager  salary  of  twenty-five  pounds 
a  year  admitted  no  extras.  Out  of  this  maze  of 
difficulties  Robert  Moffat  found  the  clue  which 
was  to  lead  him  into  friendly  relations  with  the 
72 


"  TWO  STRONG  MEN  STAND  FACE  TO  FACE  ^' 

people,  and,  before  long,  to  the  happiest  of  sur- 
prises. 

He  began  the  usual  work  of  a  pioneer  mission- 
ary, conducting  religious  services  morning  and 
evening  and  teaching  the  children  three  or  four 
hours  during  the  day.  His  school  became  quickly 
popular  and  numbered  a  hundred  or  more  chil- 
dren who  came  clad  in  their  dirty  harasses, 
or  outer  garments,  of  sheepskin.  It  was  not 
long  before  his  daily  services  were  attended 
by  no  less  a  person  than  the  chief  himself, 
who  came  with  unfailing  regularity.  Afri- 
kaner had  never  been  proficient  in  reading,  but 
he  now  applied  himself  to  the  task  with  the 
zest  of  a  boy  who  has  discovered  the  most  inter- 
esting pursuit  of  his  life.  He  would  read  his 
Testament  hours  at  a  time,  sitting  in  the  shade  of 
a  great  rock,  or  else  in  his  hut,  unperturbed  by 
the  presence  of  his  family  or  strangers.  Many  a 
night  he  sat  on  a  stone  outside  the  missionary's 
hut,  talking  with  his  new  friend  until  daybreak 
upon  such  themes  as  the  creation  of  the  world, 
the  redemption  of  mankind,  and  the  wonders  of 
the  heavenly  life.  Often,  in  the  exact  language 
of  the  Bible,  he  would  repeat  passages  he  had 

73 


THE    MOFFAT S 


studied  during  the  day  and  failed  to  understand. 
There  was  no  end  to  the  questions  his  inquiring 
mind  could  ask,  philosophical  questions  about  end- 
less space  and  infinite  duration  and  the  creative 
power  of  God  as  exhibited  in  earth  and  sky.  Long 
and  weighty  were  the  discussions,  until  he  would 
rub  his  hands  upon  his  head  and  exclaim  with 
childlike  simplicity,  ' '  I  have  heard  enough ;  I  feel 
as  if  my  head  were  too  small,  as  if  it  would  swell 
with  these  great  subjects."    , 

While  Christian  Afrikaner  was  thus  discover- 
ing new  worlds  to  conquer,  Titus  was  fighting  a 
new  kind  of  battle  with  himself  as  enemy.  Some- 
how the  missionary's  influence  had  penetrated 
even  his  stormy  life  and  set  up  a  counter  storm 
which  drove  through  his  life  with  cleansing  force. 
Robert  Moffat  had  made  repeated  advances  to 
Titus  Afrikaner,  speaking  to  him  about  the  vital 
concerns  of  his  life  in  soft  and  gentle  tones,  such 
as  the  African  savage  had  seldom  heard.  Grad- 
ually he  showed  signs  of  relenting,  until  he  too 
came  to  the  daily  services  and  often  sat  long  into 
the  night  listening  silently  to  the  conversation  be- 
tween his  brother  and  the  missionary.  He  who 
had  been  the  implacable  enemy  now  became  the 
74 


"  TWO  STRONG  MEN  STAND  FACE  TO  FACE " 

staunch  friend  of  the  Christian  missionary,  though 
he  was  not  ready  yet  to  acknowledge  himself  a 
follower  of  the  missionary's  Christ.  He  said  his 
head  had  become  too  hard  with  sin.  ''I  hear  what 
you  say,  and  I  think  I  sometimes  understand,  but 
my  heart  will  not  feel." 

Now  Titus  Afrikaner  was  the  only  influential 
man  in  the  place  who  had  two  wives,  and  the  exam- 
ple was  pernicious.  Robert  Moffat  had  tactfully 
led  up  to  the  subject  on  several  occasions,  but 
Titus  was  unmoved,  though  willing  to  admit  that 
a  man  with  two  wives  had  no  enviable  lot.  ''He 
is  often  in  an  uproar,"  he  declared,  "and  when 
they  quarrel  he  does  not  know  whose  part  to 
take."  One  day  he  came  to  the  missionary's  hut 
leading  an  ox,  upon  which  rode  one  of  his  wives. 
"What  is  the  matter?"  inquired  Robert  as  he 
greeted  his  guest.  Shaking  hands  and  laughing, 
Titus  replied,  "Just  the  old  thing  over  again. 
Mynheer  must  not  laugh  too  much  at  me,  for  I  am 
now  in  for  it."  The  two  wives  had  quarreled, 
and  one  had  flung  a  rotten  stick  with  such  force 
that  it  struck  the  other's  hand  and  left  a  piece 
an  inch  long  imbedded  in  the  palm.  The  hand 
had  swollen  to  four  times  its  normal  size.    "Why 

75 


THE  M  OFF  ATS 


did  you  not  bring  her  sooner?"  asked  the  mission- 
ary. ''She  was  afraid  to  see  you  and  would  not 
come  till  I  assured  her  you  were  a  7naak  mensche 
(tame  man)."  Robert  made  an  incision  and  re- 
moved the  splinter,  whereupon  the  woman  wept 
with  gratitude  and  listened  meekly  while  he 
pleaded  with  her  to  live  a  better  life. 

One  day  Robert  was  sitting  in  the  presence  of 
the  chief,  when,  in  a  fit  of  absent-mindedness,  he 
looked  steadily  into  the  black  face  before  him. 
Afrikaner  modestly  asked  the  reason  for  this 
searching  scrutiny.  "I  was  trying  to  picture  to 
myself  your  carrying  fire  and  sword  through  the 
country,"  answered  Robert.  ''I  could  not  think 
how  eyes  like  yours  could  smile  at  human  woe." 
For  answer  the  once  bloodthirsty  chief  cried  like 
a  child. 

Every  day  gave  fresh  evidence  of  the  reality  of 
Afrikaner's  conversion.  He  was  not  the  man  to 
do  things  by  halves.  As  he  once  went  the  whole 
length  of  evil,  he  was  now  going  the  whole  length 
of  goodness.  He  joined  the  missionary  in  a  cru- 
sade for  cleanliness  and  industry  in  the  dirty,  lazy 
kraal.  Chief  and  missionary  stood  together  at 
the  fountain,  superintending  the  school  children, 
76 


"  TWO  STRONG  MEN  STAND  FACE  TO  FACE  " 

one  hundred  and  twenty  in  number,  as  they  took 
the  first  real  baths  of  their  lives.  The  two  re- 
formers persevered  in  argument  and  entreaty 
until  the  children  actually  washed  their  sheepskin 
harasses,  no  easy  task  to  perform  since  the  skins 
were  untanned  and  sewed  together  with  sinews  of 
animals,  besides  being  stiff  with  dirt.  Wherever 
there  was  poverty  or  distress  in  the  region,  there 
Afrikaner  went  with  help  and  sympathy,  though 
from  his  spoils  of  many  years  he  had  but  little 
left  to  give.  He  who  had  once  been  a  firebrand 
among  the  tribes  now  became  their  peacemaker. 
When  he  could  have  lifted  his  arm  and  dared  the 
contending  tribes  to  draw  a  bow,  he  would  stand 
between  them  as  suppliant,  imploring  them  to 
make  up  the  quarrel  without  bloodshed.  Allud- 
ing to  his  past  life,  he  would  say,  "What  have 
I  now  of  all  the  battles  I  have  fought  and  all  the 
cattle  I  took,  but  shame  and  remorse?" 

Without  the  generosity  of  the  Afrikaners,  life 
would  have  gone  unduly  hard  with  Robert  Moffat, 
for  food  was  scarce  in  that  arid  region.  A  gift  of 
two  cows  from  the  chief  saved  him  many  a  hungry 
night,  while  the  clever  marksmanship  of  Titus 
Afrikaner  brought  him  the  elusive  game.    His 

77 


THE   MOFFATS 


food  consisted  wholly  of  milk  and  meat,  first  one 
and  then  the  other,  occasionally  both  at  once  and 
sometimes  neither.  ''The  diet  hard  and  the  blan- 
ket on  the  ground"  were  but  the  cross  to  be  joy- 
fully borne  for  this  "youthful,  sine\\^  pioneer," 
who  had  ''sprung  to  his  place"  in  God's  great 
vanguard  of  workers! 


78 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   GIPSY   LIFE    OF  AN 
AFRICAN   TRAVELER 

I  refuse  to  acknowledge  that  there  is  anything  I  ought  to 
do  which  I  cannot  do. — Mary  Porter  Gamewell. 


"  AFBIKANEE 
SMILED 

APPRECIAXnTXY 
AT   THE   WORDS 
WHICH    HE 
CAUGHT." 


VI 

THE  GIPSY  LIFE  OF  AN 
AFRICAN  TRAVELER 


OMETHING  unusual  was  going  on  in 
Afrikaner's  kraal,  for  the  people  were 
all  gathered  in  one  spot,  intently  watch- 
ing. In  the  center  of  the  circle  was  a 
fire,  and  over  the  fire  was  bending  a 
young  man  struggling  with  a  pair  of 
bellows  made  of  goatskin.  The  open  ends  of 
the  bag-shaped  skins  he  had  nailed  to  a  circular 
piece  of  board,  in  which  he  had  fastened  a  valve. 
Connecting  the  other  end  with  the  fire  and  placing 
a  weight  on  it  to  force  out  the  wind,  he  drew  out 
the  valve,  when,  to  the  delight  of  the  onlookers,  a 
steady  current  of  air  rushed  through.  With  a 
blue  granite  stone  for  an  anvil,  a  hammer,  and  a 
clumsy  pair  of  tongs,  he  set  to  work  in  dead 
earnest  to  weld  the  iron  bands  to  mend  his  broken- 
down  wagon,  which  was  in  demand  for  a  journey. 
The  tension  of  his  face  relaxed  as  he  watched  the 
success  of  an  experiment  upon  which  grave  issues 
depended.     This  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that 

81 


THE    MOFFATS 


Robert  Moffat  had  undertaken  work  which  prop- 
erly belonged  to  an  experienced  smith,  but  a 
pioneer  life  sharpens  the  inventive  faculty  to 
the  utmost  ingenuity. 

Afrikaner  and  his  people  were  planning  a  diffi- 
cult expedition  into  the  wilderness,  and  their  mis- 
sionary was  to  accompany  them.  For  his  sake, 
as  well  as  for  the  transport  of  game,  an  ox-wagon 
was  a  necessity.  His  own  wagon  was  the  only 
one  the  village  could  boast,  and  it  was  decrepit 
from  its  long  journey  from  Cape  Town.  There 
was  no  smith  in  the  place  and  no  possibility  of 
moving  the  wagon  to  Pella,  where  the  work  could 
have  been  done.  The  expedition  must  be  made, 
the  wagon  must  go,  and  by  some  device  or  other 
Robert  must  mend  its  broken  joints.  So  he  im- 
provised bellows  and  tools,  welded  the  iron,  and 
the  wagon  was  as  good  as  new.  Gun-locks  were 
also  repaired  at  the  missionary's  forge,  and  on  a 
day  in  June  the  expedition  was  equipped  and 
ready  to  start. 

For  some  time  there  had  been  talk  of  migration 
to  a  more  fertile  territory.  So  little  rain  fell  in 
their  present  location  and  the  fountain  was  so  in- 
adequate for  irrigation  that  even  the  grass  with- 
82 


TRE  GIPSY  LIFE  OF  AN  AFRICAN  TRAVELER 

ered  and  died.  Most  of  the  men  took  their  cattle 
and  went  forth  in  search  of  pasturage.  Neither 
man  nor  beast  could  find  sustenance  from  that 
parched  soil,  and  to  locate  a  permanent  mission 
there  would  be  sheer  folly.  Hence  it  came  about 
that  thirty  men  set  forth  to  explore  the  country 
on  the  borders  of  Damaraland  to  the  north,  where, 
it  was  said,  the  fountains  never  ran  dry. 

Their  route  led  first  over  endless  stretches  of 
sand,  plains  of  sand,  hills  of  sand,  all  caused  by 
the  granite  formations.  Ironstone,  quartz,  and 
occasionally  copper  were  to  be  found  in  this 
strange  region,  where  strata  ran  up  and  down  and 
across  and  sometimes  in  a  straight  line  from  one 
hill  to  another.  Zebras,  giraffes,  elks,  and  ante- 
lopes formed  a  moving  panorama  on  the  desolate 
background.  Flesh  of  zebras  and  giraffes  consti- 
tuted the  principal  diet  of  the  travelers.  It  was 
cut  in  thin  pieces  and  dried  on  the  bushes  in  the 
sun,  while  the  expedition  halted.  "When  it  was 
kept  long,  it  became  like  leather  and  had  to  be 
heated  in  the  ashes  and  pounded  between  stones 
to  loosen  the  fibers.  Robert  Moffat  finished  many 
a  meal  with  jaw  so  sore  from  excessive  chewing 
that  he  could  barely  speak.    When  there  was 

83 


THE   MOFFATS 


nothing  at  all  to  eat,  he  would  bind  his  stomach 
with  a  thong,  which  the  travelers  whimsically 
called  the  ''fasting  girdle."  Once  when  food  was 
scarce,  they  found  honey  in  the  crevices  of  the 
rocks  and  ate  it  with  relish,  thinking  they  had 
made  a  lucky  discovery.  Presently  one  after  an- 
other complained  of  a  burning  sensation  in  his 
throat,  until  all  were  afflicted  with  the  same  fiery 
malady.  A  native  who  appeared  on  the  scene 
told  them  the  honey  was  poisoned  by  the  euphor- 
bia flowers  from  which  the  bees  had  extracted  it. 
The  results  were  unpleasant,  but  not  disastrous. 

Later  on  in  the  journey  they  met  with  an  ad- 
venture which  haunted  the  memory  of  one  of  the 
travelers  forever  after.  For  an  entire  day  they 
had  pushed  their  way  through  the  hot  sand  with- 
out a  drop  of  water  to  drink.  All  night  they  tossed 
restlessly  with  thirst  and  exhaustion.  Early  in 
the  morning  Robert  arose  and,  with  a  single  com- 
panion, started  on  ahead  to  see  if  he  could  trace 
his  way  to  a  pool  of  water  by  following  the  foot- 
prints of  animals.  They  passed  beyond  a  barrier 
of  hills  and  saw  in  the  distance  a  tiny  thread  of 
smoke  rising  from  a  clump  of  bushes.  It  was  a 
sign  of  human  life,  which  surely  betokened  the 
84 


THE  GIPSY  LIFE  OF  AN  AFRICAN  TRAVELER 

presence  of  water,  and  they  quickened  their  pace. 
When  they  had  come  within  a  hundred  yards  of 
the  place,  they  stopped  excitedly,  for  the  foot- 
prints were  those  of  a  lion  which  must  have  passed 
that  way  but  an  hour  before.  The  men  had  no 
guns,  for  they  were  too  tired  to  carry  them,  but 
thirst  conquered  fear,  and  they  pressed  on,  casting 
wary  glances  at  every  bush.  They  reached  the 
spot  and  found  neither  lion  nor  water,  but  an  old, 
old  woman,  a  veritable  skeleton,  who  sat  with  her 
head  resting  upon  her  hands  in  abject  weakness. 
Terrified  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  two  men, 
one  of  them  a  white  man,  she  tried  to  rise  but  fell 
back  trembling  to  the  ground.  Calling  her  by  the 
name  best  loved  the  world  over,  Robert  Moffat 
tried  to  allay  her  fear. 

' '  My  mother,  fear  not ;  we  are  friends  and  will 
do  you  no  harm.  How  do  you  come  to  be  in  this 
situation?" 

After  a  time  she  made  answer:  ''I  have  been 
here  four  days ;  my  children  have  left  me  here  to 
die." 

''Your  children!"  exclaimed  the  white  man  in 
horror. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "my  own  children,  three  sons 

85 


THE   MOFFATS 


and  two  daughters ;  they  are  gone, ' '  pointing  with 
her  bony  finger,  ''to  yonder  blue  mountain  and 
have  left  me  to  die." 

''And  pray,  why  did  they  leave  you?" 

"I  am  old,"  said  she,  stretching  out  her  hands. 
"I  am  no  longer  able  to  serve  them;  when  they 
kill  game,  I  am  too  feeble  to  help  in  carrying  home 
the  flesh;  I  am  not  able  to  gather  wood  to  make 
fire,  and  I  cannot  carry  their  children  on  my  back 
as  I  used  to  do." 

These  last  words  were  more  than  the  white  man 
could  endure,  and  he  wept,  even  while  his  tongue 
clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth  from  thirst.  Just 
then  the  wagon  came  creaking  along  and  the 
woman  cowered  in  fear,  thinking  it  was  an  animal. 
Robert  reassured  her  and  proposed  to  lift  her  into 
the  wagon  and  take  her  with  them.  At  the  very 
suggestion  she  shook  with  fright.  The  same  thing 
would  be  done  over  again  if  they  took  her  away 
and  left  her  in  another  village,  so  she  said.  "It 
is  our  custom;  I  am  nearly  dead;  I  do  not  want  to 
die  again." 

The  sun  was  now  high  and  fiercely  hot;  the 
oxen  were  stamping  in  their  yokes ;  the  men  were 
almost  delirious.  They  must  move  on  in  search 
86 


THE  GIPSY  LIFE  OF  AN  AFRICAN  TRAVELER 

of  water,  so  they  collected  some  sticks  for  a  fire, 
left  dry  meat  and  a  knife  and,  promising  to  return 
in  two  days,  went  on  their  way.  After  a  long  ride 
past  a  series  of  rocky  hills  they  came  at  last  to  a 
stagnant  pool  of  muddy  water  into  which  men  and 
oxen  plunged  frantically. 

In  two  days  they  retraced  their  course,  accord- 
ing to  their  promise,  but  they  found  the  old  woman 
gone  and  every  vestige  of  a  human  presence  re- 
moved save  the  footprints  of  two  men.  Several 
months  later,  Robert  Moffat  learned  from  the  lips 
of  a  wandering  tribesman  that  from  ''yonder  blue 
mountain"  the  sons  had  seen  the  wagon  stop  and 
thought  the  travelers  were  looking  upon  their 
mother's  dead  body.  Going  down  to  see,  they 
found  her  alive  and  eager  to  tell  the  story  of  the 
strangers'  kindness.  Fearing  the  vengeance  of 
the  great  chief,  as  they  took  the  white  man  to  be, 
they  carried  her  home  and  cared  for  her  with  un- 
usual solicitude  during  the  rest  of  her  life. 

One  night  around  the  camp-fire  Robert  talked 
with  his  black  companions  about  this  terrible  cus- 
tom, saying  that  men  who  could  do  such  things 
were  as  bad  as  lions.  "They  are  worse,"  de- 
clared Afrikaner  and  proceeded  to  describe  the 

87 


TEE    MOFFAT S 


lion's  habit  of  giving  right  of  way  to  the  older 
beast.  When  an  old  lion,  hunting  with  younger 
lions,  his  "  children,"  as  the  Africans  naively  call 
them,  comes  upon  game,  he  makes  the  onslaught 
while  the  others  crouch  on  the  grass  near  by. 
After  he  has  killed  his  prey,  he  withdraws  for  a 
breathing  spell,  while  they  wait  and  watch.  After 
a  rest  of  some  fifteen  minutes  he  begins  to  feast, 
retiring  a  second  time  to  rest  and  advancing  a 
second  time  to  eat,  before  the  younger  lions  offer 
to  take  their  turn.  Even  when  a  young  lion  cap- 
tures the  prey  himself,  he  gives  way  in  favor  of 
an  old  lion,  if  one  chances  upon  the  scene.  "The 
lions  have  better  manners  than  the  Namaquas," 
reiterated  Afrikaner. 

Two  months  slipped  away  before  the  travelers 
returned  to  Afrikaner's  kraal,  weary  and  disap- 
pointed, but  dauntless  still.  They  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  finding  a  suitable  location  for  the  mis- 
sion because  in  that  arid  region  there  was  none 
to  find.  The  expedition  had  been  valuable  for 
demonstrating  that  fact  alone.  Before  many 
weeks  passed,  Afrikaner  was  ready  with  another 
plan,  involving  an  even  more  hazardous  journey 
for  the  missionary. 
58 


THE  GIPSY  LIFE  OF  AN  AFRICAN  TRAVELER 

Meanwhile,  Robert  Moffat  found  outlet  for  his 
energies  itinerating  among  the  Namaqua  villages 
near  and  far.  When,  at  the  close  of  a  hot  day,  he 
came  with  his  interpreter  to  a  cluster  of  huts,  the 
black  people  would  gather,  perhaps  in  a  corner  of 
the  fold  among  the  kine,  and  listen  to  the  story 
that  the  white  man  always  loved  to  tell,  because 
he  knew  its  power  to  heal  and  help.  On  these 
tours  he  rode  a  real  horse  instead  of  an  ox  with 
sharp  horns,  upon  which  the  rider  might  be  im- 
paled. Titus  Afrikaner  had  given  him  this  horse. 
It  was  the  only  one  he  possessed  and  was  invalu- 
able for  hunting,  but  nothing  was  too  good  for  his 
friend,  the  missionary. 

In  September  the  second  exploring  party  was 
ready  to  start.  Griqua  Town,  several  hundred 
miles  eastward,  was  the  destination.  The  Griqua 
chiefs  had  offered  Afrikaner  a  settlement  in  their 
territory,  and  he  was  sending  this  advance  force 
to  reconnoiter  and  report.  The  chief  did  not  go  in 
person,  but  he  sent  David  and  Simon,  his  broth- 
ers, Jonker,  his  son,  and  a  guide,  to  accompany 
the  missionary.  Eight  horses,  good,  bad,  and 
indifferent,  and  a  sheepskin  blanket  apiece  made 
up  the  equipment  of  the  party. 

8»' 


THE    MOFFATS 


Brightly  colored  birds  without  the  gift  of  song, 
baboons,  hyenas,  panthers,  and  lions  were  the 
only  living  creatures  that  they  met  in  the  wilder- 
ness. Mimosa  bushes  with  thorns  like  fish-hooks 
and  deep  chasms  walled  in  with  steep  precipices 
were  the  natural  obstacles  to  progress.  Once,  un- 
wittingly, the  missionary  drank  water  which  the 
little  Bushmen  had  poisoned  to  trap  game.  Once, 
on  a  cold  night,  having  covered  the  tired  horses 
with  the  sheepskin  karosses,  he  dug  a  hole  in  the 
sand  and  buried  himself,  all  but  his  head.  He 
had  the  best  sleep  of  the  journey  that  night.  Once, 
as  they  were  fording  a  stream  at  twilight,  a  hip- 
popotamus gave  chase,  snorting  so  loudly  that  the 
precipices  sent  back  the  echoes.  On  another  occa- 
sion their  guide  lost  the  path,  and  they  encamped 
for  the  night  without  water,  only  to  find  in  the 
morning  that  they  had  been  led  by  an  invisible 
Guide  to  escape  the  deadly  peril  of  lions.  Worst 
of  all,  they  w^ere  nearly  three  days  without  food 
and  nearly  two  days  without  w^ater,  arriving  at 
Griqua  Town  totally  unable  to  speak  and  making 
known  by  signs  their  desperate  need  of  water. 

From  Griqua  Town  they  went  fifty  miles  north 
■to  Daniel's  Kuil  and  as  far  again  to  Lattakoo,  a 
90 


THE  GIPSY  LIFE  OF  AN  AFRICAN  TRAVELER 

mission  station  on  the  Kuruman  River,  among  the 
Bechnana  tribes.  Little  did  Robert  Moffat  dream 
at  that  time  that  the  Bechnana  people  and  the 
Kuruman  mission  were  to  be  vitally  connected 
with  his  life  and  that  of  another. 

In  October  they  returned  to  make  report  to 
Afrikaner  and  to  give  heartfelt  thanks  to  God  for 
their  safe  home-coming  after  the  terrible  hazards 
of  the  journey.  Removal  to  Griqualand  was  de- 
ferred for  the  present,  and  work  was  resumed  on 
the  old  site,  where  drought  and  hunger  pressed 
sore,  but  the  Bread  of  Life  had  renewed  power 
to  sustain.  Never  before  had  the  people  shown 
such  affection  for  their  missionary,  though  they 
little  realized  his  aching  need  of  human  sympathy. 
For  a  secret  grief,  unsuspected  by  his  black  neigh- 
bors, Robert  required  the  infinite  solace  of  the 
gospel  that  he  preached, — required  and  obtained 
it  day  by  day.  Had  they  known  the  contents  of 
a  certain  English  letter  which  reached  him  on  a 
black  day  in  November,  their  simple  minds  would 
have  devised  new  ways  of  expressing  the  love 
they  felt. 

For  their  sakes,  as  well  as  for  his  own  physical 
necessities,  Robert  Moifat  conceived  a  plan  for  a 

91 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


third  expedition  which  involved  perils  and  possi- 
bilities altogether  unique.  He  proposed  that  Afri- 
kaner should  go  with  him  to  Cape  Town.  It  was 
imperative  that  Robert's  tattered  wardrobe  should 
be  replenished;  even  more  imperative  was  it  that 
the  mission  should  be  relocated  on  a  more  stra- 
tegic site.  Both  these  needs  could  be  met  in  Cape 
Town.  Wlien  he  broached  the  subject  to  Afri- 
kaner, the  chief  stared  in  blank  amazement.  ''I 
had  thought  you  loved  me,  and  do  you  advise  me 
to  go  to  the  government  to  be  hung  up  as  a  spec- 
tacle of  public  justice?  Do  you  not  know  that  I  am 
an  outlaw,  and  that  one  thousand  rix-dollars  have 
been  offered  for  this  poor  head?"  But  Robert 
had  visions  of  great  things  to  be  accomplished  by 
Afrikaner's  visit  to  the  Colony,  and  his  enthusi- 
asm inspired  his  black  companion.  "I  shall  de- 
liberate," said  Afrikaner  thoughtfully,  "and  com- 
mit my  way  unto  the  Lord;  I  know  he  will  not 
leave  me." 

The  question  weighed  heavily  upon  chief  and 
people.  For  three  days  they  deliberated;  then 
they  came  to  a  solemn  decision.  Afrikaner  was 
to  go.  It  was  upon  the  young  missionary  that  the 
burden  of  responsibility  fell,  but  he  was  sure  he 
S2 


THE  GIPSY  LIFE  OF  AN  AFRICAN  TRAVELER 

was  doing  right  and  that  God  would  carry  him 
through  unscathed  to  his  destination  and  to  final 
victory. 

As  a  precaution  for  travel  through  the  leriitory 
of  the  Dutch  farmers,  Robert  assumed  the  role 
of  chief  and  Afrikaner  that  of  servant.  There 
was  nothing,  however,  in  the  apparel  of  either  to 
denote  the  presence  of  a  chieftain.  Robert  had 
exactly  two  substantial  shirts  left,  and  one  of  them 
he  gave  to  Afrikaner,  who  donned  in  addition  a 
pair  of  leather  trousers,  a  time-worn  duffel  jacket 
and  an  old  hat  of  nondescript  hue.  The  mission- 
ary's garb  was  scarcely  more  presentable,  but 
what  could  be  expected  after  fifteen  months  of 
roughing  it  in  the  most  stubborn  wilderness  of  the 
world? 

As  they  crossed  the  borders  of  Cape  Colony, 
concern  deepened  in  Robert  Moif at 's  mind.  How 
would  the  Dutch  farmers  treat  Afrikaner,  should 
they  chance  to  discover  his  identity?  They  were 
obliged  to  stop  for  water  at  the  scattered  farms 
along  their  route,  and  Robert  found  again  the  hos- 
pitable welcome  which  the  Boers  customarily  ac- 
corded to  strangers.  When  they  recognized  him, 
they  exclaimed  in  amazement,  saying  they  had 

93 


THE   MOFFAT S 


heard  he  was  murdered  by  Afrikaner.  When  he 
tried  to  tell  them  of  Afrikaner's  transformed  life, 
they  seemed  to  think  his  mind  deranged. 

One  day  he  came  to  a  house  where  he  had  met 
with  marked  kindness  on  his  inland  journey.  The 
farmer  came  down  the  hill  upon  which  the  house 
was  built,  to  greet  the  stranger,  and  Robert  put 
out  his  hand  saying  he  was  glad  to  see  him  again. 
The  farmer  thrust  his  hand  behind  him  and  asked 
rather  distractedly,  *'Who  are  you?" 

'*I  am  Moffat,  have  you  forgotten  me?" 

''Moffat!"  he  stammered.  "It  is  your  ghost. 
Don't  come  near  me,"  and  he  retreated  several 
steps.  "You  have  been  long  murdered  by  Afri- 
kaner. "  "  But  I  am  no  ghost, ' '  protested  Robert, 
feeling  his  hands  to  testify  his  flesh  and  blood 
reality. 

"Everybody  says  you  were  murdered,"  par- 
leyed the  farmer.  "A  man  told  me  he  had  seen 
your  bones." 

For  several  minutes  he  stared  at  the  youthful 
figure  before  him;  then  he  bravely  put  out  his 
hand  saying,  "Wlien  did  you  rise  from  the  dead?" 
Thinking  that  his  wife  would  be  alarmed  at  his 
appearance,  they  walked  down  the  hill  toward  the 
94 


THE  GIPSY  LIFE  OF  AN  AFRICAN  TRAVELER 

wagon  talking,  as  they  went,  about  Afrikaner, 
that  human  bugbear  of  the  farmers. 

^  *  He  is  now  a  truly  good  man, ' '  affirmed  Robert, 
after  recounting  the  facts  of  his  conversion  and 
transformed  life. 

*'I  can  believe  almost  anything  you  say,"  re- 
plied the  farmer,  *'but  that  I  cannot  credit;  there 
are  seven  wonders  in  the  world ;  that  would  be  the 
eighth. ' ' 

By  that  time  they  were  close  to  Afrikaner  him- 
self, who  smiled  appreciatively  at  the  words  that 
he  caught. 

''Well,"  concluded  the  farmer,  '*if  what  you 
assert  respecting  that  man  be  true,  I  have  only  one 
wish,  and  that  is,  to  see  him  before  I  die ;  and  when 
you  return,  as  sure  as  the  sun  is  over  our  heads, 
I  will  go  with  you  to  see  him,  though  he  killed  my 
uncle. ' ' 

The  last  announcement  was  rather  startling, 
but,  knowing  the  good  nature  of  the  farmer,  Rob- 
ert decided  to  run  the  risk  and  grant  him  his  wish 
on  the  spot. 

''This,  then,  is  Afrikaner,"  said  he. 

The  farmer  drew  back  and  stared  at  him  as  if 

95 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


he  had  dropped  from  the  sky.  *'Are  you  Afri- 
kaner?" he  asked. 

Afrikaner  arose,  doffed  his  old  hat  and  bowed 
politely,  saying,  ''I  am."  The  farmer  gazed  at 
him  with  awe  as  the  chief  stood  meek  as  a  lamb 
before  him.  Lifting  up  his  eyes  he  said  rever- 
ently, ' '  0  God,  what  a  miracle  of  thy  power !  What 
cannot  thy  grace  accomplish!" 

In  April,  1819,  Robert  Moffat  and  Christian 
Afrikaner  guided  their  ox-cart  into  Cape  To\vn, 
having  made  the  trip  from  Great  Namaqualand  in 
two  months.  His  excellency  the  governor.  Lord 
Charles  Somerset,  appointed  an  hour  wherein  to 
receive  the  famous  outlaw,  whose  arrival  he 
could  scarcely  credit.  It  was  an  interesting  situa- 
tion when  Afrikaner  stood  in  the  presence  of  the 
English  governor,  the  man  who  had  refused  per- 
mission to  Robert  Moffat,  upon  his  landing  in 
Cape  To^vn,  to  go  as  a  missionary  beyond  the 
borders  of  the  Colony.  He  now  saw  before  him  in 
Christian  Afrikaner  living  evidence  of  the  value 
of  the  enterprise  which  he  had  once  questioned. 
He  received  him  with  marked  kindness  and,  as 
token  of  good-will,  presented  him  with  a  fine,  new 
wagon  worth  at  least  eighty  pounds.  It  so  hap- 
96 


THE  GIPSY  LIFE  OF  AN  AFRICAN  TRAVELER 

pened,  in  the  irony  of  human  events,  that  before 
Afrikaner  left  Cape  Town  the  one  hundred 
pounds  sterling  once  offered  as  reward  for  his 
capture  was  expended  by  the  government  in  gifts 
for  himself  and  his  people. 

The  presence  of  Afrikaner  created  no  small  stir 
in  Cape  Town,  for  his  lawless  adventures  had 
been  the  common  theme  for  twenty  years.  The 
gentleness  of  his  bearing  and  his  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  the  Bible  made  a  profound  impression. 
His  New  Testament,  which  bore  the  thumb-marks 
of  constant  usage,  was  touching  evidence  of  sin- 
cerity. The  missionary  had  indeed  proved  his 
case  by  producing  this  witness  whose  very  life 
testified  mightily  to  the  redemptive  power  of 
Jesus  Christ. 

That  same  unfailing  power  had  been  tested  in 
the  missionary's  own  life  the  last  five  months, 
though  none  but  himself  saw  the  fight  or  knew 
when  the  victory  came.  The  struggle  began  when 
that  sad  letter  found  its  way  to  him  in  Afrikaner's 
kraal.  In  that  letter  Mary  Smith  had  told  him 
she  would  never,  never  be  able  to  go  to  Africa 
to  work  by  his  side,  because  her  father  had  for 
the  last  time  refused  his  permission.     Again  it 

97 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


was  the  old  cry,  he  must  go — across  the  veld  and 
the  burning  sand  of  Africa — and  she  must  stay 
— far  away  in  bonny  England  with  ''ten  thousand 
mile ' '  between ! 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE 

It  takes  great  love  to  stir  a  human  heart 

To  live  beyond  the  others  and  apart, 

Love  that  can  wound  love,  for  its  higher  need: 

Love  that  can  leave  love,  though  the  heart  may  bleed ; 

Love  that  can  lose  love,  family,  and  friend. 

Yet  steadfastly  live,  loving  to  the  end. 


"  SHE    SAT 
DOWN   AND 
WROTE  A 
LETTEB 
TO   BOBEBT'S 
PARENTS " 


VII 

THE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE 


[T  was  October  in  northern  England, 
and  the  magic  of  the  season  played 
havoc  with  one's  workaday  mood. 
From  the  tall  beech-trees  yellow 
leaves  fell  like  streamers  of  gold 
through  the  Indian  summer  haze. 
Late  roses  ventured  upon  a  brief  career  in  the 
Cheshire  gardens,  while  upon  the  hills  lingered 
the  purple  of  the  heath-bloom,  faded  but  indomi- 
table. The  wood  above  the  Dukinfield  nursery 
wore  its  autumn  garb  of  russet  brown  which  the 
mellow  light  transfused  into  shiny  bronze.  In 
the  garden  behind  the  stone  house  the  young  trees 
were  being  snugly  planted  against  the  time  of 
frosts  and  snows.  The  rix>ening  processes  of 
summer  were  past,  and  in  this  disquieting  mid- 
season  nature  and  man  were  preparing  for  the 
endurance  test  of  winter. 

By  her  work-table  in  the  sunny  sitting  room 
Mary  Smith  sat,  her  sewing  lying  forgotten  in 
her  lap,  her  blue  eyes  misty  with  thought.    Her 

101 


TRE    M  OFF  ATS 


endurance  test  had  outlasted  two  winters,  stern 
and  unremitting.  Would  her  strength  hold  out 
for  a  third  and  a  fourth  winter,  perhaps  for  a 
lifetime  of  bleak,  shivery  winters,  when  all  the 
while  her  heart  was  craving  the  warmth  and  sun- 
shine of  summer?  It  was  two  years  ago  this  very 
month  since  Robert  had  sailed  away  from  Eng- 
land. In  that  first  void  of  separation  Mary  had 
been  buoyed  by  the  hope  of  joining  him  some  day 
in  Africa.  It  was  her  unceasing  prayer  that  this 
hope  might  be  fulfilled.  She  gloried  in  the 
thought  of  going  to  him,  knowing  he  could  not  in 
honor  return  to  her.  But  that  prospect  had 
dimmed  steadily  before  her  eyes  as  her  parents 
grew  more  and  more  unwilling  to  let  her  go.  She 
could  scarcely  listen  to  a  sermon  concerning 
God's  readiness  to  answer  prayer  without  break- 
ing down  and  sobbing,  so  disheartened  had  she 
become.  Would  he  not  answer  her  prayer  and 
grant  her  heart's  desire? 

Last  winter  had  brought  the  final  decision,  and 
she  had  written  to  Robert  renouncing  their  cher- 
ished hope  of  reunion  in  Africa.  If  it  had  been 
excruciating  to  write  that  letter,  it  was  more  ex- 
cruciating to  think  of  his  receiving  it.  She 
102 


THE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE 


could  even  see  the  mute  suffering  upon  his  face 
as  he  read  those  cruel  sentences  she  had  written, 
oh,  so  unwillingly.  If  only  she  could  have  been 
there  to  soothe  the  hurt  she  herself  inflicted !  In 
her  own  life  there  had  been  times  when  it  seemed 
as  if  she  must  die  of  the  wound  she  bore.  But 
what  was  the  endurance  test  allotted  to  her  in 
the  outskirts  of  busy  Manchester,  compared  with 
that  set  for  him  in  an  African  kraal  with  an  ox- 
cart, and  with  six  hundred  miles  of  desert  be- 
tween him  and  civilization !  In  his  primitive  sur- 
roundings there  would  arise  every  day  problems 
of  living  such  as  a  man  could  hardly  solve  with- 
out a  woman's  help.  Was  it  right  for  her  to  fail 
him  in  his  great  need?  Mary  had  always  be- 
lieved her  love  for  Robert  was  God's  call  not 
merely  to  the  ''ordinary  human  bliss,"  but  to  the 
companionship  of  a  great  purpose  and  a  great 
endeavor.  "Was  she  not  doing  wrong  to  resist 
that  irresistible  call?  ''Impelled  by  feelings  I 
cannot  master,  held  back  by  a  tie  I  dare  not 
break. ' '  It  was  the  old  dilemma  magnified  a  hun- 
dred times  by  her  yearning  to  see  again  the  boy- 
ish curve  of  his  cheek,  to  touch  with  caressing, 
reverent  fingers  the  locks  of  his  dark  hair.    What 

103 


THE    MOFFATS 


wonder  that  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  that  October 
afternoon  fell  aslant  a  girlish  head,  buried  in 
abandon  of  grief  upon  the  little  work-table,  her 
sewing  lying  in  a  tumbled  heap  on  the  floor! 

The  illusion  of  summer  cast  by  the  hazy,  Oc- 
tober days  passed  into  the  grim  reality  of  winter. 
The  days  grew  shorter  and  the  nights  longer, 
spreading  twilight  over  the  land  before  the  day's 
work  was  done.  Bleak  winds  and  gusts  of  snow 
drove  men  and  beasts  to  shelter.  One  December 
evening  James  Smith  and  his  wife  were  sitting 
before  the  fire  talking  in  low,  grave  tones.  Mary 
had  just  left  them  to  go  to  her  room,  and  the 
house  was  still  with  a  strange  sense  of  expectancy. 
The  firelight  flickered  upon  the  two  gray  heads 
and  caught  the  frightened,  wistful  look  upon 
their  faces.  They  had  climbed  "the  hill  the- 
gither"  and  now  "they  maun  totter  down,  hand 
in  hand,"  leaning  harder  upon  each  other  and 
harder  still  upon  God,  for  Mary,  their  precious 
child,  was  going  out  from  the  stone  house  at 
Dukinfield  across  the  seas  to  Africa,  perhaps 
never  to  come  home  again.  There  before  the  fire 
they  had  fought  their  battle  through  to  victory, — 
those  God-fearing  parents.  No  longer  would  they 
104 


THE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE 


withhold  Mary  from  the  life  God  had  appointed 
her  to  live. 

A  few  days  ago  two  letters  had  come  from 
Robert,  letters  which  had  been  seven  and  eight 
months  on  the  way.  "When  the  father  and  mother 
listened  to  those  letters,  straight  from  Afri- 
kaner's kraal,  their  eyes  were  opened,  and  they 
saw  with  clear  vision  the  destitute,  ill-fed,  pa- 
thetically lonely  life  they  had  doomed  Robert  to 
live  without  Mary.  Had  they  a  right  to  keep 
those  two  apart  when  together  each  could  work 
twice  as  effectively  for  the  black  people  of  Africa, 
''the  strength  of  two  being  felt  in  each  one's 
power?"  It  was  God  who  was  calling  this  child 
to  his  work.  Dare  they  refuse  him  I  No,  a 
thousand  times  no,  even  though  a  sword  pierced 
their  own  souls.  It  was  a  kind  of  annunciation 
which  came  to  this  father  and  mother,  the  seal 
of  God  upon  the  life  of  their  child.  In  days  to 
come  they  too  would  sing  a  Magnificat  because 
a  child  of  theirs  had  been  chosen  ''to  go  before 
the  face  of  the  Lord  to  make  ready  his  ways. ' ' 

Christmas  that  year  brought  the  gift  of  gifts 
into  the  family  life  at  Dukinfield,  the  gift  of  vic- 
torious love.    For  Mary  the  rebound  of  joy  was 

105 


THE    HI  OFF  ATS 


almost  too  wonderful  to  endure.  Love  came  into 
its  o^vn  and  wrought  an  excitement  of  spirit  as 
riotous  as  spring,  and  as  transforming.  There 
were  no  neutral  tints  in  her  life  to  match  the 
^\^nter  landscape.  Life  was  all  color,  movement, 
intensity,  but  with  a  storm-cloud  of  suffering  on 
the  horizon.  The  bliss  of  going  to  Robert  was 
already  shadowed  with  the  dread  of  leaving  home. 
Marriage  for  Robert  Moffat  and  Mary  Smith  in- 
volved sacrifices  beyond  the  common  lot  of  young 
lovers,  but  the  measure  of  loss  was  less  than  the 
measure  of  gain  in  the  love  they  bore  each  other 
and  the  Leader  they  followed. 

The  great  news  was  already  on  its  slow  way 
to  South  Africa,  where  by  this  time  Robert  must 
have  received  the  other  letter  saying  that  Mary 
could  never  come.  How  could  she  wait  six  or 
eight  months  for  these  opposite  tidings  to  reach 
him!  From  the  African  hut  where  she  pictured 
Robert  her  thoughts  sped  to  a  little  stone  cot- 
tage in  Scotland  where  lived  another  father  and 
mother  whom  she  had  never  seen,  but  toward 
whom  her  heart  went  out  in  yearning.  To  ease 
her  mind  she  sat  down  and  wrote  a  letter  to 
Robert's  parents: 
106 


THE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE 


Manchester,  December  16, 1818. 
My  dear  Friends: 

Doubtless  you  will  be  surprised  to  be  addressed  thus  by 
an  entire  stranger,  but,  though  personally  unknown,  you  are 
dear  to  me  for  the  sake  of  your  beloved  son  Robert.  If  you 
have  received  a  letter  from  him  lately,  you  will  perhaps  know 
in  what  relation  I  stand  to  him;  but,  as  I  think  it  very  prob- 
able that  your  letter  may  have  miscarried,  I  cannot  but  feel 
deeply  anxious  that  you  should  know  of  his  welfare.  I  received 
letters  from  him  about  ten  days  ago,  dated  April  and  May, 
1818,  in  the  former  of  which  he  states  that  he  sent  by  the 
same  opportunity  a  letter  for  you  and  also  one  for  my  father, 
but  as  this  has  never  come  to  hand  I  fear  that  yours  also  may 
have  met  with  some  delay,  if  it  is  not  entirely  lost. 

It  is  not  only  the  probability  of  this  circumstance  which 
induces  me  to  write  to  you,  but  also  a  desire  to  communicate  to 
you  that,  after  two  years  and  a  half  of  the  most  painful 
anxiety,  I  have,  through  the  tender  mercy  of  God,  obtained 
permission  of  my  parents  to  proceed  some  time  next  spring  to 
join  your  dear  son  in  his  arduous  work.  This  is  what  I  by  no 
means  expected  a  week  ago,  but  God's  thoughts  are  not  as  our 
thoughts.  When  he  arises,  eveiy  mountain  flows  down  at  his 
presence.  He  has  the  hearts  of  all  men  in  his  hands  and  can 
turn  them  as  the  rivers  of  water.  So  he  has  done  with  regard 
to  my  parents.  Previous  to  the  arrival  of  these  last  letters,  my 
father  had  persisted  in  saying  that  I  should  never  have  his 
consent ;  my  dear  mother  has  uniformly  asserted  that  it  would 
break  her  heart  ( as  I  have  no  sister,  and  she  is  far  advanced  in 
life) ;  notwithstanding  all  this,  they  both   yesterday   calmly 

107 


THE    MOFFATS 


resigned  me  into  the  hands  of  the  Lord,  declaring  they  durst 
no  longer  withhold  me. 

The  idea  of  parting  forever  with  my  beloved  family  appears 
almost  too  much  for  myself.  Sometimes  I  think  I  shall  never 
get  launched  on  the  ocean  before  grief  weighs  me  down;  but 
such  are  my  convictions  of  duty,  that  I  believe,  were  I  to  re- 
main here  another  year,  it  would  then  be  out  of  my  power  to 
go,  for  I  must  sink  under  the  weight  of  an  accusing  conscience, 
when  I  consider  Robert's  peculiarly  trying  situation  and  the 
strong  affection  which  he  seems  to  bear  to  me. 

The  dawTi  of  the  new  year  brought  to  Mary- 
Smith  an  unparalleled  expectancy.  Before  its 
course  was  run,  what  mighty  changes  would  be 
wrought  for  her  and  for  those  she  loved !  Prepa- 
rations were  begun  in  earnest,  for  at  the  first 
suitable  opportunity  Mary  was  to  sail  for  South 
Africa.  In  those  days  no  weekly  mail  boat  sped 
with  unfailing  regularity  from  Southampton  to 
Cape  Town  in  sixteen  days.  Only  an  occasional 
sailing  vessel  put  out  to  sea  on  uncertain  dates 
for  the  voyage  of  three  months  to  the  Cape.  In 
those  tense  days  of  waiting  and  preparing,  par- 
ents and  children  drew  very  near  to  one  another. 
Only  the  great  realities  of  life  stood  out,  the  petty 
concerns  dwindling  into  insignificance.  The  three 
boys,  William,  John,  and  James,  came  under  their 
108 


THE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE 


sister's  influence,  and  John  publicly  avowed  his 
allegiance  to  the  Master  she  served.  Thus  was 
another  prayer  answered,  for  Mary  had  longed 
to  have  this  brother  committed  to  the  Christian 
life  before  she  left  the  country.  Sharing  her  pur- 
pose, he  could  more  effectively  minister  to  their 
father  and  mother  in  her  absence. 

The  yellow  broom  set  the  hills  ''aglow  with 
golden  light"  on  the  day  Mary  Smith  said  good- 
by  to  her  Chester  home.  The  green  hedges 
and  greener  fields,  the  thatched  villages  and 
manor-houses  buried  in  shrubbery,  never  seemed 
half  so  fair  as  on  the  summer  day  that  she  and 
lier  father  set  forth  for  London.  The  coach 
swung  around  a  curve,  giving  one  last  glimpse 
of  smoky  Manchester,  one  last  agonizing  look  in 
the  direction  where,  behind  the  smoke  and  the 
trees,  stood  the  stone  house  in  which  a  white- 
faced  mother  went  bravely  about  her  daily  work. 
Then  on  and  on  they  went  through  large  towns 
and  tiny  hamlets,  drawing  up  with  lordly  flourish 
at  roadside  inns  and  at  last,  with  dignified  pace, 
entering  the  great  city  which  lies  at  the  end  of 
every  Britisher's  dream — London. 

In  the  early  nineteenth  century  he  who  would 

109 


THE   MOFFATS 


cross  the  seas  must  needs  learn  the  lesson  of 
patient  waiting.  Mary  Smith  learned  her  lesson 
well  before  she  left  London  to  go  to  the  ship. 
Days  lengthened  into  weeks,  until  her  father 
could  stay  "no  longer  and  started  on  his  lonely 
way  back  to  Dukinfield.  Mary  was  left  alone  in 
the  great  city,  cherishing  her  precious  memories 
of  the  past  and  facing  her  unkno^vn,  adventurous 
future.  New-found  friends  in  Islington  could 
hardly  do  enough  to  prove  their  sympathy  with 
the  brave-hearted  girl.  Her  almost  daily  solace 
was  the  long  letter  she  wrote  home,  revealing  the 
terrible  clash  between  her  affection  for  her  par- 
ents and  her  longing,  intensified  by  a  high  sense 
of  duty,  to  serve  God  in  Africa  with  the  man  whom 
she  loved.    One  of  these  letters  reads  as  follows : 

London,  August  13,  1819. 
My  dear  Mother: 

I  have  sent  you  a  small  token  of  affection.  I  thought  it 
would  be  better  calculated  to  communicate  pleasure  and  com- 
fort to  your  heart  than  any  article  of  dress.  As  for  having 
my  portrait  taken,  I  cannot  now,  as  my  father  is  leaving  and 
I  should  have  to  pay  for  it  myself;  and  that  you  know  would 
not  do.  Whatever  I  possess  now  I  must  husband  well,  remem- 
bering that  I  am  now  supported  more  peculiarly  out  of  the 
sacred  treasury.    Oh,  may  I  ever  keep  this  in  mind  and  be  a 

110 


THE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE 


faithful  steward!  Oh,  my  dear  mother,  do  be  happy,  as  you 
vahie  my  peace  of  mmd,  the  honor  of  religion,  and  my  credit 
in  the  world!  Do  not  let  me  be  reflected  upon  for  want  of 
affection  to  the  best  of  mothers.  You  know  it  is  not  want  of 
affection.  Oh,  do  not  allow  the  world  to  think  so!  Let  us 
prove  to  the  world  that  our  blessed  religion  has  power  to 
soothe  us  under  every  distress. 

It  was  the  last  of  August  when  Mary  set  forth 
from  London  to  go  down  to  Gosport,  near  the 
port  of  sailing.  For  two  weeks  she  lingered 
there,  a  guest  in  the  home  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Bogue. 
One  morning  in  September  the  captain's  sum- 
mons was  received,  and  Mary  Smith,  with  her 
two  missionary  companions,  went  on  board  the 
British  Colony,  in  whose  cramped  quarters  they 
must  remain  until  they  stepped  upon  the  shore 
of  Africa.  At  noon  the  ship  sailed  out  of  the  har- 
bor at  "West  Cowes  for  the  long,  long  voyage.  It 
was  about  a  week  later  that  an  unexpected  let- 
ter reached  the  family  group  at  Dukinfield  to  add 
a  touch  of  gladness  to  their  saddened  thoughts. 

Gosport,  September  15,  1819. 
My  dear  Madam: 

After  having  had  your  lovely  and  interesting  daughter  an 
inmate  in  our  family,  and  enjoying  an  opportunity  of  cultivat- 
ing her  character  and  beholding  her  unfeigned  and  exalted 

111 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


piety  and  zeal,  I  cannot  but  feel  deeply  for  you  and  Mr. 
Smith  on  being  called  to  part  with  her  to  such  a  distance. 
Great  must  have  been  the  trial,  the  conflict  must  have  been 
severe;  all  the  parental  feelings  must  have  risen  up  in  direct 
opposition  to  her  plans  and  wishes.  The  sacrifice  you  have 
made  of  them  is  great,  but  not  too  great  for  him  who  gave 
up  himself  for  you.  "  The  best  child  is  not  too  good  for  God." 
He  gave  her  to  you  and  he  has  demanded  her  back  again,  and 
he  can  and  will  be  better  to  you  than  ten  such  daughters, 
lovely  and  excellent  as  she  is.  His  gracious  presence  can 
more  than  supply  hers,  and,  if  he  withdraws  the  nether  springs, 
he  can  make  the  upper  springs  to  overflow  and  abound.  He 
has  highly  honored  you  in  giving  you  such  a  daughter,  and 
by  calling  her  to  fill  such  a  high  post  on  earth  as  that  of  a 
Christian  missionary,  the  highest  she  could  fill.  .  .   . 

While  with  us  Miss  Smith  was  in  excellent  health  and  spirits, 
looked  well  and  was  cheerful  and  in  a  very  happy  and  suitable 
frame  of  mind.  She  sailed  last  Thursday  and  is,  we  suppose, 
by  this  time  safely  across  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  as  the  wind  has 
been  favorable. 

Your  truly  sympathizing  friend, 

Charlotte  Bogue. 

Far  out  to  sea  the  British  Colony  pursued  her 
slow,  uneven  course.  When  the  wind  was  favor- 
able, she  made  four  or  five  miles  an  hour;  when 
the  wind  was  contrary,  one  mile;  and  when  the 
wind  ceased  altogether,  she  lay  becalmed,  rolling 
from  side  to  side  with  that  slow,  sickening  mo- 
112 


TRE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE 


tion  every  traveler  abhors.  Below  deck,  pigs, 
ducks,  and  geese  added  their  din  to  the  general 
discord  which  prevailed  among  passengers  and 
crew.  There  was  a  perpetual  scene  of  wrangling, 
varied  on  two  occasions  by  the  captain's  display 
of  authority,  when  he  stamped  about  like  a  mad- 
man, giving  orders  here  and  there,  and  threaten- 
ing to  blow  out  the  brains  of  one  of  the  offenders. 
Mary  Smith  wished  fervently  for  a  squall,  that 
he  might  have  something  to  take  up  his  mind. 
Mary  had  managed  to  keep  aloof  from  the  con- 
tention on  board,  though  by  nature  she  was  quick 
and  outspoken.  The  honor  of  her  cause  was  at 
stake  in  her  conduct  and  she  carried  herself  with 
discreet  self-control. 

In  1819  no  one  would  have  chosen  an  ocean 
voyage  for  resting  tired  nerves  or  reviving  a 
faded  interest  in  life.  It  was  a  straight  test  of 
endurance,  in  which  only  the  fittest  survived 
without  damage  to  health  or  disposition.  Of  all 
the  passengers  on  board  the  British  Colony  none 
came  through  in  such  excellent  health  and  spirits 
as  Mary.  Her  fellow  passengers  pronounced  her 
the  one  person  on  board  best  fitted  in  body  and 
mind  for  the  rugged  life  of  the  interior.     And 

113 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


yet  she  had  suffered  many  a  day  with  headache, 
and  many  a  night  had  her  pillow  boon  drenched 
with  tears  as  she  thought  and  dreamed  of  home. 
''Water,  water  everj^vhere"  for  four,  eight, 
ten,  twelve  weeks,  and  then  early  one  morning 
the  thrilling  cry  of  ''Land!  "  That  cry  aroused 
varied  emotions  in  the  minds  of  the  travelers: 
for  some,  reunion  with  old  and  dear  friends;  for 
others,  the  chance  to  make  or  redeem  the  for- 
tunes of  life ;  and  for  one  and  all,  relief  from  pro- 
longed discomfort  on  shipboard.  But  was  there 
one  among  them  who  felt  such  inward  agitation, 
half  dread,  half  ecstasy,  as  Mary  Smith  felt,  as 
she  watched  that  gray  strip  on  the  horizon  take 
on  the  irregular  contour  of  land?  Was  she  in 
some  fantastic  dream,  from  which  she  would  sud- 
denly awaken  to  find  herself  back  in  the  familiar 
scenes  of  Dukinfield?  Or  was  this  the  reality  and 
her  whole  past  life  the  dream?  She  felt  as  if  she 
were  hovering  on  the  margin  of  life,  when  either 
past  or  future  might  slip  from  her  grasp,  leaving 
her  a  stranded,  forgotten  spirit  in  a  realm  un- 
known. She  was  separated  by  a  great  ocean  from 
her  people  at  home.  When  and  where  would  she 
find  the  one  to  whom  she  had  entrusted  her  future? 
114 


THE  VICTORY  OF  LOVE 


Presently  Table  Mountain  emerged  from  the 
indistinct  mass,  its  huge,  square  bulk  looming 
against  the  sky.  At  its  sides  arose  in  sharp  out- 
lines the  two  peaks.  Lion's  Head  and  Devil's 
Peak,  and  at  its  base  gleamed  the  white  houses 
of  Cape  Town.  As  the  ship  entered  the  harbor, 
friends  came  eagerly  on  board  to  greet  the  new 
arrivals.  Mary  scanned  each  face  for  the  one 
she  longed  to  see.  But  no,  he  was  not  there !  A 
strange  man  was  coming  toward  her  as  if  to  give 
her  welcome.  Who  could  he  be?  What  did  it 
mean?    And  where,  where  was  Robert? 


115 


CHAPTER  VIII 
A  HONEYMOON  IN  AN  OX-CAET 

Rise  up,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and  come  away. 
For,  lo,  the  winter  is  past; 
The  rain  is  over  and  gone; 
The  flowers  appear  on  the  earth; 
The  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come, 
And  the  voice  of  the  turtle-dove  is  heard  in  our  land. 
— The  Song  of  Solomon,  ii.  10-12. 


SOUTHERN   5^    _ 

MATABELELAITD  (       ^ 


J  ND/AN 
•w        OCSAN 


ATLANT/C 


OCEAT^ 


SOUTH  AFRICA 

Showing 
Places    Mentioned    in 

THE  MOFFATS 


VIII 
A  HONEYMOON  IN  AN  OX-CAET 


'HEN  Afrikaner  made  ready  to  go  home 
from  Cape  Town,  it  was  with  heavy 
heart,  because  his  missionary  must  be 
left  behind  in  the  Colony.  Though  he 
had  the  good-will  of  the  government  in 
the  shape  of  substantial  presents  and, 
more  especially,  in  a  passport  to  insure  kindly 
treatment  from  the  Dutch  farmers,  yet  he  dreaded 
to  go  back  to  his  people  in  their  lonely  kraal  with- 
out the  white  man  they  loved  so  well.  The  white 
man  had  other  claims  laid  upon  him,  and  in  those 
claims  Afrikaner  acquiesced  with  the  unselfish- 
ness of  a  real  Christian. 

In  April,  1819,  w^hen  Robert  Moffat  and  Afri- 
kaner arrived  in  Cape  Town,  they  found  there 
two  men  who  had  been  sent  by  the  London  Mis- 
sionary Society  in  England  to  investigate  the  con- 
dition of  the  scattered  mission  stations  in  South 
Africa.  The  men  were  John  Campbell,  an  in- 
trepid explorer  who  had  already  made  one  trip 

119 


THE   MOFFAT S 


into  the  interior  of  Africa,  and  Dr.  Philip,  who 
was  to  remain  in  Cape  Town  as  the  permanent 
representative  of  the  Society.  After  meeting 
Robert  Moffat  and  hearing  the  story  of  his  work 
in  Great  Namaqualand,  especially  after  seeing 
the  living  result  of  that  work  in  Christian  Afri- 
kaner, they  concluded  that  he  should  be  sent  to 
a  larger  and  more  promising  field  among  the 
Bechuana  tribes  on  the  Kuruman  River.  When 
they  broached  the  subject  to  Robert,  he  was 
dumfounded,  for  he  had  fully  expected  to  return 
with  Afrikaner.  He  had  even  bought  supplies  on 
the  way  to  the  Cape  which  he  intended  taking 
with  him  on  the  return  trip.  On  no  account  would 
he  agree  to  the  proposal  until  he  had  conferred 
with  Afrikaner  and  secured  his  approval.  The 
African  chief,  however,  was  not  to  be  outdone 
in  sagacity  or  magnanimity.  Like  the  general  he 
was,  he  recognized  the  strategy  of  placing  the 
missionary  among  a  people  larger  in  numbers 
and  more  advantageously  located  than  his  own 
small  tribe  upon  its  sandy  plains.  Like  the 
Christian  he  was,  he  gave  up  his  missionary,  that 
other  needy  tribes  might  share  the  blessings  of 
his  presence.  With  the  instinct  of  a  leader  who 
120 


A  HONEYMOON  IN  AN  OX-CART 


provides  for  the  future  of  his  followers,  he 
planned  with  Mr.  Moffat  how  he  might  some  time 
remove  his  tribe  to  the  Kuruman  River,  as  the 
Bechuanas,  with  whom  he  had  traded,  had  often 
invited  him  to  do.  At  any  rate  he  would  take  his 
new  ox-cart,  the  gift  of  the  governor,  and  trans- 
port the  books,  furniture,  and  cattle  which  the 
missionary  had  left  in  his  kraal  to  Lattakoo,  the 
new  home  in  Bechuanaland.  With  these  hopes 
of  reunion  the  two  friends  parted,  each  with  a 
void  in  his  heart  for  the  brother  who  had  gone 
his  separate  way. 

In  the  meantime  a  still  more  difficult  decision 
was  required  of  Robert  Moffat.  Dr.  Philip  and 
Mr.  Campbell  were  planning  a  trip  to  the  eastern 
part  of  the  Colony  and  north  into  Kaffraria,  to 
visit  old  stations  and  prospect  for  new  sites. 
They  urged  Robert  to  go  with  them,  on  the  plea 
that  his  experience  as  an  African  traveler  and 
missionary  would  lessen  the  difficulties  of  the 
undertaking.  A  predicament  it  surely  was  for 
Robert!  Four  days  after  reaching  Cape  Town 
he  had  received  the  letter  from  England  which  in 
a  flash  turned  his  world  of  sober  gray  into  color 
and  sunshine,  with  laughter  and  songs  ringing  in 

121 


THE    MOFFAT S 


his  ears.  Mary's  letter  had  traveled  swiftly  to 
its  owner,  winged  perhaps  by  the  buoyancy  of  its 
message,  hastened,  at  any  rate,  in  its  delivery  by 
Eobert's  timely  arrival  in  Cape  To\\ti.  She  was 
coming,  coming,  the  girl  he  loved  and  had  re- 
nounced for  duty's  sake,  coming  to  be  his  bride, 
his  lifelong  companion,  coming  all  that  long, 
perilous  way,  and,  if  he  should  go  on  the  trip  to 
Kaffraria,  he  would  be  far  away  in  the  interior 
when  her  ship  came  to  port.  Could  he  commit 
to  others  the  priceless  privilege  of  welcoming 
Mary?  Every  instinct  of  his  being  cried  "No, 
no,"  but  somewhere  from  the  deptlis  within  came 
a  stern,  imperious  little  voice  which  said  "Yes," 
with  a  finality  not  to  be  gainsaid.  In  a  home  let- 
ter written  about  this  time  appeared  these  few 
significant  words: 

"On  these  accounts  nothing  could  have  excited  me  to  take 
this  journey  but  a  sense  of  my  duty  which  I  owe  to  him  in 
whose  service  I  am  engaged.  Dr.  Philip  and  Mr.  Campbell 
laid  before  me  the  valuable  aid  my  service  would  render  them 
on  their  important  tour.  I  consider  this  a  sufficient  cause  to 
take  up  my  cross  and  to  follow  Jesus.  This  is  my  comfort, 
that  the  Lord  is  her  refuge,  and  she  will  find  numerous  affec- 
tionate friends  in  the  Cape  who  will  receive  her  with  open 
arms." 
122 


A  HONEYMOON  IN  AN  OX-CART 


The  touring  party  set  forth  and  proceeded  suc- 
cessfully until  Bethelsdorp  was  reached,  when  it 
was  learned  that  war  with  the  Kafirs  had  broken 
out  and  entrance  into  their  country  was  pro- 
hibited. There  was  nothing  to  do  but  return  to 
Cape  Town,  and,  to  Robert's  unspeakable  delight, 
he  was  there  in  time.  The  ship  was  not  yet  due 
in  port!  God  had  found  his  servant,  like  Abra- 
ham of  old,  willing  to  obey,  and  in  return  for  that 
willingness  had  given  him  back  the  very  joy  he 
had  renounced. 

Curiosity  ran  high  in  Cape  Town  whenever  a 
British  ship  was  sighted  at  the  entrance  to  Table 
Bay.  Wliat  news  would  she  bring  from  the  great 
world?  What  interesting  cargoes?  What  letters 
from  home  or  from  travelers  afar?  Perhaps  the 
very  travelers  theniselves !  Many  there  were  who 
hurried  down  to  the  pier  that  eventful  day  in 
December  when  the  British  Colony  came  to  port, 
but,  strange  to  relate,  Robert  Moffat  was  not 
among  them.  As  the  time  approached,  he  was  so 
violently  shaken  by  the  storm  of  feeling  within 
him  that  he  dared  not  risk  a  greeting  on  board 
ship  amid  a  crowd  of  curious  onlookers.  No,  his 
first  meeting  with  Mary  must  be  in  some  quiet 

123 


THE   MOFFATS 


place  where  there  would  be  no  need  of  common- 
places or  disguises  to  hide  the  emotion  they  felt. 
Consequently  he  sent  his  friend  Mr.  Melville  to 
the  ship  to  meet  Mary  and  escort  her  ashore, 
while  he  waited  at  home,  consumed  by  impatience 
such  as  only  a  young  lover  knows.  The  months 
and  years  of  waiting  crowded  these  last  moments 
with  an  intensity  almost  suffocating. 

It  was  shortly  after  one  o'clock  when  steps 
were  heard  outside,  and  a  voice  dearer  than  all 
the  music  of  earth  sounded  in  Robert's  ears.  The 
door  opened  and  Mary  stood  before  him,  as  fresh 
and  sweet  as  if  she  had  just  stepped  out  of  a 
Cheshire  garden  on  a  spring  morning.  With  one 
broken  cry  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  the 
welcome  she  received  that  day  was  worth  all  the 
tiresome  weeks  at  sea,  all  the  homesickness  and 
the  peril  and  the  long  suspense. 

Two  days  later  a  ship  sailing  home  to  England 
carried  a  joint  letter  from  Robert  and  Mary  to 
the  father  and  mother  at  Dukinfield.  A  portion 
of  Mary's  letter  ran  thus: 

Having  parted  from  you  all,  my  aflfection  felt  weaned  from 
this  world;  and,  there  being  an  uncertainty  whether,  on  my-" 
arrival  here,  my  dear  friend  would  be  alive,  I  felt  prepared 

124 


A  HONEYMOON  IN  AN  OX-CART 


for  anything.  But  oh,  my  cup  of  happiness  seems  almost  full! 
Here  I  have  found  him  all  that  my  heart  could  desire,  except 
his  being  almost  worn  out  with  anxiety,  and  his  very  look 
makes  my  heart  ache.  Our  worthy  friend,  Mr.  Melville,  met 
me  on  board  and  conducted  me  to  his  house,  where  a  scene  took 
place  such  as  I  never  wish  to  experience  again.  We  have  re- 
ceived each  other  from  the  Lord  and  are  happy.  .   .    . 

Robert  will  conclude  this  letter,  and  I  will  write  very  soon 
more  particularly;  my  time  is  now  expired  and  I  can  say  no 
more.    But,  mother,  be  happy,  and  praise  God  on  my  account. 

Robert's  conclusion  read  in  part  as  follows: 

Dear  Father  and  Mother: 

I  can  noAv  with  more  reason  than  in  my  former  letter  address 
you  with  the  endearing  title  of  parents.  It  would  be  in  vain 
for  me  to  call  to  mind  the  different  scenes  through  which  I 
have  passed,  but  more  particularly  what  I  felt  when  the  sound 
of  your  beloved  daughter's  arrival  had  reached  me.  It  was  to 
me  nothing  less  than  life  from  the  dead.  My  prayers  an- 
swered, the  promises  which  had  long  been  my  refuge  were  now 
fulfilled.  My  prayers  in  that  respect  are  now  turned  to  praise, 
and  surely  never  in  my  life  has  the  hand  of  God  been  so 
singularly  manifested  for  good. 

Mary,  my  own  dear  Mary,  is  now  far  distant  from  a  land 
endeared  to  her,  being  the  place  which  gave  her  birth,  and 
which  still  contains  a  circle  of  friends  who  are  entwined  round 
her  heart,  but  more  especially  endeared  as  the  residence  of 
you,  dearer  than  all  besides.    She  is  now  separated  from  those 

125 


THE    MOFFAT S 


scenes  and  from  you,  but  let  this  comfort  you,  that,  although 
in  a  land  of  strangers,  she  is  under  the  care  of  our  ever- 
present  God,  and  united  to  one  who  speaks  as  he  feels  when 
be  promises  to  be  father,  mother,  and  husband  to  Mary,  and 
will  never  foi-get  the  sacrifice  j-ou  have  made  in  committing  to 
bis  future  care  your  only  daughter. 

On  the  twenty-first  of  December  Robert  Moffat 
celebrated  his  twenty-fourth  birthday.  Then  fol- 
lowed Christmas  with  its  drift  of  memories.  A 
year  ago  there  had  been  for  Robert  no  hope  of 
Mary's  coming;  a  year  ago  for  Mary  the  great 
hope  had  just  been  reborn.  And  now  the  miracle 
of  reunion  had  come  to  pass,  and  they  were  fac- 
ing the  new  year  together!  The  cro-svning  event 
of  that  anniversary  week  took  place  two  days 
later,  when,  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  December, 
in  St.  George's  Church,  Cape  Town,  Robert 
Moffat  and  Mary  Smith  were  married.  Dr.  Philip 
took  the  place  of  father  to  the  girl  whose  own 
father  was  six  thousand  miles  away,  while  the 
Melvilles  opened  their  house  for  the  wedding  com- 
pany, which  in  the  ordinary  course  of  events 
would  have  assembled  in  the  stone  house  at 
Dukinfield.  Though  so  far  from  home  on  that  day 
of  days,  there  shone  in  the  faces  of  the  bridal  pair 
126 


A  HONEYMOON  IN  AN  OX-CART 


an  ineffable  happiness  such  as  comes  only  from 
human  love  made  di\^ne  by  sacrifice. 

Early  in  the  new  year  three  ox-wagons  stood 
ready  for  the  wedding  journey  of  seven  hundred 
miles  to  Lattakoo.  One  was  a  transport  wagon 
for  conveying  luggage:  the  other  two  were  pas- 
senger wagons  of  the  usual  type,  resembling 
somewhat  the  prairie  schooner  of  the  North 
American  frontier,  though  much  larger.  The 
typical  African  ox-cart  was  about  fifteen  feet  long 
and  five  feet  wide,  with  wheels  several  feet  in 
diameter,  bound  by  massive  iron  rims.  The  sides 
were  made  of  boards,  and  a  circular  framework 
covered  with  canvas  formed  the  top.  At  the 
front  and  back  hung  canvas  curtains,  to  be  raised 
or  lowered  at  the  whim  of  the  travelers  or  the 
vagaries  of  the  weather.  The  interior  revealed 
unexpected  recesses  to  the  unwary  passenger.  In 
a  section  at  the  rear,  fastened  at  either  side,  were 
two  beds,  called  kartels,  consisting  of  wooden 
frames  and  mattresses.  In  front  was  space  for 
such  tasks  as  could  be  performed  while  the 
springless  cart  jerked  and  bumped  over  the  road. 

To  Robert  and  Mr.  Campbell  the  ox-wagon  was 
an  old  story,  for  already  they  had  trekked  hun* 

127 


THE    MOFFATS 


dreds  of  miles  across  the  African  veld.  But  for 
Mary,  the  cart,  the  oxen,  and  the  **crew"  of  black 
men  had  the  zest  of  novelty.  When  Robert  had 
helped  his  wife  into  their  cart  and  Mr.  Campbell 
had  climbed  into  his,  the  drivers  lashed  their 
long  whips,  the  leader  boys  grasped  the  thongs 
fastened  to  the  horns  of  the  foremost  oxen,  the 
screwfer  boys  released  the  brakes,  and  the  cara- 
van moved  on  its  way. 

When  Cape  Town  was  left  behind,  they  jolted 
through  fertile  valleys  and  lovely  mountain 
scenery,  making  about  fifteen  miles  a  day,  the 
speed  limit  of  an  African  ox-cart.  In  due  time 
they  came  to  that  curious  desert  upland  known 
as  the  Karroo,  where,  as  Mr.  Campbell  said,  they 
must  needs  put  on  their  spectacles  to  espy  a  blade 
of  grass ;  where  every  plant  save  the  mimosa  had 
a  bluish-yellow  color  from  the  saltpeter.  Here 
for  ten  days  they  passed  but  one  solitary  house, 
though  meeting  a  number  of  wagons  journeying 
from  the  interior  to  the  coast.  It  was  a  gipsy- 
like experience ;  on  the  road  for  the  coolest  hours 
of  the  day,  then  outspanning— as  unhitching  is 
usually  called  in  South  Africa— for  a  meal  and 
a  rest.  When  it  was  excessively  hot,  perhaps 
128 


A  HONEYMOON  IN  AN  OX-CART 


ninety-six  degrees  in  the  shade,  they  traveled  by 
night  and  rested  by  day.  At  each  halt  the  crew 
gathered  fuel  and  placed  the  three-legged  iron 
pot  over  the  fire. 

''I  like  wagon  traveling  better  than  I  ex- 
pected," wrote  Mary  Moffat  to  her  parents.  '*It 
is  not  so  fatiguing.  I  have  had  none  of  those 
hardships  which  I  looked  for.  Our  table  is  gen- 
erally well  spread,  better  than  we  shall  look  for 
when  we  are  poor  missionaries;  this  is  partly 
owing  to  Mr.  Campbell's  being  with  us,  and  partly 
to  Robert's  being  well  known  in  the  country  and 
receiving  liberal  presents." 

To  his  parents  Robert  wrote  in  this  vein: 

"I  am  happy  to  say  that  Mary  stands  the  journey  amazingly 
well;  she  takes  everything  as  she  finds  it  and  encounters  with 
ease  what  you  would  term  difficulties.  She  has  several  times 
asserted  that  she  never  enjoyed  better  health  than  she  has  since 
she  came  to  Africa.  Nay,  I  am  sometimes  astonished  to  see 
her  possessed  of  such  good  spirits  at  times  when  human  nature 
is  spent,  for  we  have  our  hardships." 

For  Robert  and  Mary  it  was  an  enchanted  land 
of  youth  and  love  through  which  they  were  travel- 
ing.    They  had  but  to  look  into   each  other's 

129 


THE    MOFFATS 


tanned  and  sunburnt  faces  to  become  as  children 
faring  forth  hand  in  hand  on  one  of  childhood's 
great  adventures  in  playland.  The  tug  was  yet 
to  come,  but  with  childhood's  faith  in  God  and 
each  other,  what  need  had  they  for  fear? 

Half-way  across  the  Karroo  they  came  to  an 
embryo  town,  now  Beaufort  West,  then  a 
settlement  of  six  houses  with  a  missionary 
and  a  landdrost,  or  magistrate,  already  in 
residence.  The  latter,  a  Scotchman,  Mr.  Baird 
by  name,  called  upon  the  travelers  as  soon 
as  they  had  outspanned,  inviting  them  to  his 
house  for  meals  so  long  as  they  should  stay. 
When  they  left,  he  furnished  them  with  guides 
to  lead  the  way  through  the  tangled  passes  of 
the  Bushman  country.  On  the  very  day  of  de- 
parture two  men  and  some  twenty  or  thirty  oxen 
were  seen  approaching  from  the  southeast.  They 
had  come  from  Bethelsdorp,  leading  the  oxen 
which  Mr.  Campbell  and  his  party  had  left  there 
the  year  before  upon  their  hasty  retreat  to  Cape 
To-^^m.  A  message  had  been  sent  to  Bethelsdorp 
asking  that  the  oxen  be  brought  to  Beaufort  West 
on  such  a  date,  but  with  the  uncertainties  of 
African  travel  the  timely  arrival  seemed  provi- 
130 


A  HONEYMOON  IN  AN  OX-CART 


dential.  A  day  later  and  the  party  would  have 
been  gone ! 

Seven  weeks  had  passed  when  the  travelers 
came  at  last  to  the  Orange  River,  that  stream 
which  flows  a  thousand  miles  across  continent, 
rising  near  the  Indian  Ocean  on  the  east  and  fall- 
ing into  the  Atlantic  on  the  west.  They  had 
trekked  six  hundred  miles  over  the  very  route 
which  to-day  can  be  traversed  in  two  days  by 
train  from  Cape  Town.  Happily  for  them  the 
river  was  low,  and  in  the  space  of  half  an  hour 
oxen,  wagons,  and  passengers  were  safely  across. 
A  year  before,  at  this  very  season,  a  woman  mis- 
sionary spent  nine  weeks  waiting  on  the  shore  and 
another  week  in  crossing,  the  rain  falling  in  such 
wild  torrents  that  she  could  not  tell  whether  the 
wagon  was  in  the  stream  or  out  of  it.  The 
vagaries  of  this  river  were  destined  to  be  well 
known  to  Robert  and  Mary  Moffat  before  their 
African  travels  were  over. 

Four  days  later  they  came  to  Griqua  Town,  an 
interesting  missionary  settlement  founded  in  the 
year  1804  by  Mr.  Anderson  and  Mr.  Kramer. 
Here  Robert  was  on  familiar  ground,  the  scene 
of  his  tragic  adventure  a  year  and  a  half  before, 

131 


THE    MOFFAT S 


when  he  stumbled  into  Mr.  Anderson's  house, 
half-crazed  with  thirst  and  hunger,  having  been 
three  days  without  food.  How  changed  were  the 
circumstances  of  his  second  entry  into  Griqua 
Town! 

Thus  far  the  inland  journey  had  been  a  venture 
of  faith,  because,  for  the  second  time,  the  colonial 
governor  had  vetoed  Robert  Moffat's  plans  for 
settling  in  the  interior.  He  had  insisted  that 
Robert  become  a  government  missionary  in  Kaf- 
fraria,  and  because  he  declined,  the  governor 
tried  to  force  his  acceptance  by  barring  the  way 
to  Lattakoo.  Notwithstanding  this  obstacle,  Mr. 
Campbell  was  bent  on  making  the  trip,  and  it 
seemed  expedient  for  the  Moffats  to  accompany 
him,  trusting  that  the  ban  would  be  lifted  before 
they  reached  the  journey's  end. 

Beyond  Griqua  Town  they  trekked  by  long 
stages  from  one  fountain  to  the  next,  outspan- 
ning  for  the  last  time  at  the  source  of  the  Kuru- 
man  River,  a  great  rock,  cleft  by  some  convulsion 
of  past  ages  into  mysterious  caverns  with  bats 
overhead  and  subterranean  passages  beneath, 
along  which  the  water  could  be  heard  rushing  in 
torrents.  From  such  a  source  one  would  expect 
132 


A  HONEYMOON  IN  AN  OX-CART 


a  river  /deep  and  tumultuous,  but  the  Kuruman, 
alas,  was  but  a  shallow,  meandering  stream. 

The  soft,  green  landscape  of  England  was 
haunting  Mary  Moffat's  mind,  as  she  neared  her 
journey's  end,  suggested  perhaps  by  the  more 
fertile  aspect  of  the  region  they  were  now  enter- 
ing. Here  at  last  were  a  few  scattered  trees  and, 
yes,  cornfields  and  gardens,  but  nowhere  in 
Africa,  so  she  said,  had  she  seen  a  wood  equal  to 
that  above  the  Dukinfield  nursery.  Seven  months 
it  was  since  Mary  had  left  her  Cheshire  home 
to  travel,  without  a  single  disaster,  seven  thou- 
sand miles  to  Lattakoo,  the  very  place  which  for 
six  years  had  lured  her  with  a  charm  irresistible. 
When  John  Campbell  returned  home  from  his" 
first  trip  to  Africa  he  had  addressed  a  meeting 
in  Manchester  at  which  Mary  Smith  had  been 
present.  As  he  told  the  story  of  the  needy  black 
people  in  Bechuanaland,  the  girl  had  breathed 
the  prayer,  *'0h,  that  I  might  spend  my  days  at 
Lattakoo!  " 

What  a  miracle  had  been  wrought  in  the  space 
of  six  brief  years !  At  this  very  moment  their 
ox-carts  were  creeping  into  the  African  village 
of  Lattakoo,  and  Mr.  Campbell  himself  was  their 

133 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


companion  and  guide.  The  crowning  wonder 
shone  in  Mary's  eyes  as  she  glanced  toward 
Robert  and  then  toward  the  huts  of  straw  and  the 
black  people  who  were  swarming  to  greet  them. 
They  were  coming  home  at  last,  Robert  and  Mary, 
husband  and  wife,  home  to  the  black  man's  kraal, 
where  a  God-given  task  awaited  them. 


134 


CHAPTEE  IX 
THE  WAIT-A-BIT  THORN 

If  you  can  keep  your  head  when  all  about  you 

Are  losing  theirs  and  blaming  it  on  you; 

If  you  can  trust  yourself  when  all  men  doubt  you, 

And  make  allowance  for  their  doubting  too; 

If  you  can  wait  and  not  be  tired  by  waiting, 

Or  being  lied  about,  don't  deal  in  lies, 

Or  being  hated,  don't  give  way  to  hating. 

And  yet  don't  look  too  good,  nor  talk  too  wise; 

If  .   .  . 

— Rudyard  Kipling 


135 


"AT   ALL 
HOURS    OP 
THE    DAY 
THEIR 
HUT   WAS 
INVADED   BY 
INQUISITIVE 
VISITOBS." 


IX 
THE  WAIT-A-BIT  THORN 


HE  village  of  Lattakoo,  otherwise  known 
as  Mothibi's  kraal,  was  protected  from 
wild  beasts  by  a  closely-set  hedge  of 
brambles,  a  natural  barricade  equal  to 
the  barbed-wire  fence  for  spitefulness. 
Stout,  sharp  thorns  grew  in  dense  ar- 
ray upon  these  bushes,  shrewdly  named  the  ''wait- 
a-bit"  thorns.  Curiously  enough,  the  wait-a-bit 
thorns  became  symbolic  of  the  life  of  the  brave 
Scotch  pioneers  whom  they  surrounded  at  Latta- 
koo.  They  had  fallen  into  a  tangle  of  hostility  and 
misunderstanding,  as  prickly  and  impenetrable  as 
the  thorn  hedge,  and  for  days,  months,  even  years, 
were  made  to  wait  for  release.  Ever  since  the 
first  missionaries  arrived  in  Lattakoo,  the  black 
chief  and  his  people  had  kept  them  in  the  bram- 
bles of  suspense.  Both  chief  and  people  were  like 
spoiled  children  clamoring  perpetually  for  fresh 
toys  to  play  with,  and  the  newcomers  were  vic- 
tims of  their  whims  and  caprices. 
When  John  Campbell  first  visited  the  Batlap- 

137 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


ing  tribe  of  the  Bechuana  race,  Mothibi,  the  chief, 
had  said  to  him  in  all  seriousness,  ''Send  mis- 
sionaries; I  will  be  a  father  to  them."  Stirred 
by  this  promise  and  the  prospect  of  thousands  of 
people  reached  by  the  gospel  message,  Mr.  Camp- 
bell had  returned  to  England  and  pleaded  for  the 
mission  at  Lattakoo.  In  town  and  city  his  voice 
was  heard  in  its  moving  appeal  for  the  black  peo- 
ple of  Bechuanaland. 

In  the  year  1815  four  young  men  had  responded 
to  Mr.  Campbell's  call  for  recruits  and  set  sail 
for  South  Africa  under  appointment  of  the  Lon- 
don Missionarj^  Society.  Two  of  these  men,  Mr. 
Evans  and  Mr.  Hamilton,  trekked  bravely  over  the 
road  from  Cape  Town  to  Lattakoo,  cheered  on 
their  way  by  thought  of  the  welcome  they  would 
receive  at  the  journey's  end.  One  day  in  Feb- 
ruary their  ox-carts  drew  up  in  the  public  square 
of  Mothibi 's  village  while  the  chief  with  a  num- 
ber of  his  followers  came  forward  and  shook 
hands.  To  their  utter  amazement  Mothibi  greeted 
them  with  the  question,  "What  have  you  brought 
for  barter?"  The  interpreter,  who  had  accom- 
panied them  from  Griqua  Town,  explained  that 
these  two  men  were  the  missionaries  whom  Mr. 
138 


TEE  WAIT-A-BIT  THORN 


Campbell  had  promised  to  send  and  Mothibi  had 
promised  to  receive.  At  this  announcement  the 
chief's  face  grew  stormy,  and  the  subordinate 
chiefs  who  had  gathered  around  muttered  and 
gesticulated  ominously.  A  disconcerting  recep- 
tion it  was  for  men  who  had  traveled  seven  thou- 
sand miles  to  answer  the  call  of  the  heathen  chief ! 
Gifts  of  beads  and  other  articles  served  to 
''sweeten  the  heart,"  as  the  Africans  say,  and 
again  the  interpreter  alluded  to  the  promise 
Mothibi  had  made. 

"They  may  stay  and  help  me  fight,"  answered 
the  chief  warily,  ''but  they  want  water,  much 
water ;  there  is  no  water ;  there  are  no  trees ;  the 
people  have  customs  and  will  not  hear." 

For  two  days  Mothibi  kept  the  missionaries 
waiting  for  his  final  verdict  upon  their  case.  One 
minute  he  declared  they  could  stay,  and  the  next' 
that  they  must  go.  At  last  the  matter  was  re- 
ferred to  a  council  of  the  people  whom  he  bade 
"speak  their  minds." 

"The  missionaries  must  not  come  here,"  cried 
the  people. 

"The  missionaries  must  not  come  here," 
echoed  the  chief. 

139 


THE    MOFFATS 


Before  they  could  yoke  their  oxen  and  escape, 
the  villagers  crowded  around  the  cart  begging 
noisily  for  gifts.  A  jeering  mob  chased  them 
through  an  opening  in  the  thorn  hedge,  shouting, 
"Away  with  the  white  people,  away  with  the 
white  people!" 

Back  to  Griqua  To^vn  went  Mr.  Hamilton  and 
Mr.  Evans,  ''pursued,  yet  not  forsaken;  per- 
plexed, yet  not  unto  despair."  There  they  waited 
and  watched  for  further  change  in  Mothibi's  fickle 
mind.  As  the  days  went  by,  Mr.  Evans  became 
disheartened  and  returned  to  the  Colony.  Mr. 
Hamilton,  with  quiet  determination,  continued  to 
wait,  praying  and  believing  that  in  time  Mothibi 
would  consent  to  receive  him.  Meanwhile  he  was 
obliged  to  go  to  the  Cape  for  supplies,  and  upon 
his  return  with  purchases  made  in  the  shops  at 
Cape  Town,  the  greedy  Mothibi  promptly  changed 
his  tactics  and  bade  him  come  to  Lattakoo. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  Mr.  Hamilton  had 
spent  some  four  harassed  years  among  the  Bat- 
lapings  at  Lattakoo  when  Mr.  Campbell  and  the 
Moffats  came  to  relieve  his  loneliness.  For  sev- 
eral months  Robert  Moffat  and  his  bride  lived  in 
one  mud-walled,  mud-floored  room,  while  Mr. 
140 


THE  WAIT-A-BIT  THORN 


Campbell  made  a  venturesome  journey  to  the 
Bahurutse  tribe,  two  hundred  miles  to  the  north- 
east. When  his  work  of  prospecting  was  done 
and  he  was  ready  to  return  to  the  Cape,  the 
Moffats  also  made  preparations  to  depart,  for 
they  too  were  denied  permission  to  remain  at  Lat- 
takoo.  This  time  it  was  not  the  heathen  chief, 
Mothibi,  who  refused  shelter  to  the  missionaries, 
but  the  English  governor  at  Cape  Town  who 
withheld  his  consent. 

As  they  were  busily  packing  for  the  journey, 
there  crept  into  the  village  out  of  the  west  a 
strange  ox-cart  bearing  the  marks  of  long,  hard 
travel.  A  tall,  sinewy  African,  with  the  manner 
and  bearing  of  a  chieftain,  alighted  from  the  cart 
and  inquired  for  the  missionary,  Mr.  Moffat.  A 
proud  moment  it  was  for  Robert  Moffat  when  he 
led  Mary  to  the  scene  and  presented  to  her  his 
old  friend  Afrikaner.  Yes,  Afrikaner  it  surely 
was,  who  had  come  over  the  long  trail  from  Great 
Namaqualand  to  fuM  the  promise  made  to  his 
missionary  before  they  parted  in  Cape  Town. 
Stowed  away  in  the  wagon  were  the  books  and 
furniture  belonging  to  Mr.  Moffat,  and  corralled 
near  by  were  his  oxen  and  sheep,  the  entire  prop- 

141 


TBE    MOFFATS 


erty  guarded  and  transported  by  the  one-time 
bandit,  Afrikaner.  His  arrival  was  another  of 
those  timely  occurrences  in  which  the  watchful 
care  of  God  could  be  traced,  seeking  to  save  his 
children  disappointment  and  loss.  A  day  or  two 
later  and  the  missionaries  would  have  been  gone 
down  the  southbound  route  to  Griqua  Town! 

As  it  was,  the  little  company  set  forth  together, 
Afrikaner  traveliiig  with  them  as  far  as  Daniel's 
Kuil,  the  half-way  point.  There  he  left  them  to 
pursue  his  lonely  way  across  the  desert,  the  re- 
turn seeming  far  longer  and  harder  without  the 
anticipation  which  had  lightened  the  outward 
journey.  These  were  days  of  severed  companion- 
ships, for  the  parting  with  Afrikaner  was  but  the 
foreshadowing  of  another  to  take  place  at  Griqua 
Town.  There  John  Campbell  would  leave  them 
to  go  on  his  way  to  Cape  Towti  and  thence  home 
to  old  England.  A  delightful  companion  he  had 
been  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  African 
travel;  beguiling  the  slow  hours  with  his  quaint 
touches  of  humor;  ready  always  "to  endure  hard- 
ship as  a  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ."  In- 
stinctively Robert  and  Mary  drew  closer  to  each 
other  and  closer  yet  into  the  covert  of  their 
142 


THE  WAIT-A-BIT  THORN 


Father's  love,  under  the  buffetings  of  their 
pioneer  life  in  Africa. 

As  the  ox-carts  came  into  the  vicinity  of  Griqua 
Town,  a  messenger  approached  with  a  letter  in 
his  hand.  It  was  a  letter  from  the  Colony  say- 
ing that  at  last  the  governor  had  given  permis- 
sion for  the  Moffats  to  settle  at  Lattakoo.  Free 
at  last  to  make  their  home  where  they  most  de- 
sired,— but  not  free  to  return  at  once  to  the 
coveted  spot !  The  Griqua  mission  was  in  trou- 
bled condition,  and  Robert  was  asked  to  remain 
for  a  time  to  help  unravel  the  snarl  of  difficulties. 

Robert  and  Mary  had  been  married  a  twelve- 
month when  sorrow  and  joy  in  close  succession 
visited  their  humble  home  at  Griqua  Town.  The 
young  wife  was  stricken  with  a  terrible  illness 
from  which  it  was  thought  she  could  never  re- 
cover. With  white,  tortured  face  her  husband 
watched  by  her  bedside  trying  to  catch  her  broken 
messages  of  farewell.  ^'Weeping  may  tarry  for 
the  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning." 
Morning  for  them  was  the  spring  of  the  year,  and 
joy  was  the  return  and  the  advent  of  life.  When 
April  flung  its  dazzling  sunlight  into  the  bare  lit- 
tle room  in  the  mission  house,  Mary  Moffat  held 

143 


THE    MOFFAT S 


in  her  arms  a  baby  girl  called  by  her  own  name. 
Did  any  guardian  angel  whisper  to  the  father 
and  mother  aught  of  the  wonderful  destiny  which 
awaited  that  tiny  bit  of  girlhood  far  out  in  the 
years  to  come? 

In  May,  1821,  the  little  family  returned  in  their 
ox-cart  to  Lattakoo,  there  to  begin  housekeeping 
in  their  o^vn  home.  Until  Robert  could  build  a 
comfortable  house  for  his  wife  and  child,  they 
lived  in  an  ordinary  Bechuana  hut,  with  the 
peaked  roof  and  the  sloping  walls  of  straw.  Into 
that  primitive  home,  problems  and  perils  fell  like 
a  rain  of  hailstones.  At  all  hours  of  the  day  their 
hut  was  invaded  by  inquisitive  visitors,  who 
talked  in  loud  tones  or  stretched  out  on  the  mud 
floor  for  a  nap,  and  who  seized  warily  any  object 
which  pleased  their  childish  fancy.  Sometimes 
the  hut  was  crowded  to  suffocation,  and  the 
young  wife  held  a  prisoner  in  her  own  dwelling. 
Moreover,  it  was  an  African  fashion  to  daub  the 
body  w^ith  grease  and  red  ocher,  so  that  every- 
thing the  visitors  touched,  from  the  baby's  clothes 
to  the  dinner  table,  was  smeared  in  like  manner. 
Many  a  day  the  Moffats  postponed  their  dinner 
for  hours  in  the  hope  that  their  greasy,  red-hued 
144 


THE  WAIT-A-BIT  THORN 


guests  would  depart.  A  vain  hope  it  was,  for  the 
Beehuanas  found  much  amusement  in  the  customs 
of  the  foreigners.  All  efforts  to  keep  the  food 
and  household  articles  clean  were  greeted  with 
noisy  laughter.  The  idea  of  using  water  for 
cleanliness  was  ludicrous,  and  the  English  mode 
of  dress  worse  than  senseless.  "Why,"  said  they, 
' '  should  a  person  put  his  legs  and  arms  into  bags  ? 
Why  use  buttons  to  fasten  clothes  around  one's 
body  when  they  could  just  as  well  be  suspended  as 
ornaments  from  the  neck  or  hair!"  Why,  in  fact, 
be  a  serious-minded  Englishman  when  it  is  so 
much  easier  to  be  an  irresponsible  African? 

One  day  Mrs.  Motfat  found  a  native  woman  in 
her  little  outside  kitchen  and  humbly  asked  her 
to  leave,  that  she  might  close  the  room  before 
going  to  church.  For  answer  the  woman  seized 
a  piece  of  wood  to  hurl  at  Mrs.  Moffat's  head. 
Needless  to  say  she  was  left  in  undisputed  posses- 
sion of  the  kitchen  and  all  it  contained.  On  an- 
other occasion  a  native  girl  who  was  tending  little 
Mary  took  offense  at  some  reproof  and  flung  the 
baby  across  the  hut  at  its  mother's  head.  As- 
suredly there  was  no  humdrum  about  life  in  an 
African  kraal. 

145 


THE    3I0FFATS 


Worst  of  all  grievances  that  the  missionaries 
had  to  endure  was  the  universal  native  habit  of 
stealing.  A  shrewd  device  was  to  wait  until  the 
missionaries  had  gone  to  the  little  church  which 
Mr.  Hamilton  had  built,  then  to  thrust  a  black 
head  within  the  door  to  discover  who  was  in  the 
pulpit,  and  knowing  he  could  not  leave  for  a  given 
time,  dart  off  to  his  hut  to  capture,  mayhap,  his 
dearest  possessions.  Knives,  metal  spoons,  saws, 
and  axes  disappeared  with  magic  swiftness,  and 
their  loss  was  keenly  felt  when  the  nearest  shop 
was  some  hundred  miles  away.  If  the  tools 
proved  to  be  of  unexpected  metal,  the  thieves 
would  bring  them  back  beaten  into  all  sorts  of 
shapes  and  offer  them  in  barter  for  other  articles. 
Many  a  day  when  the  missionary  was  working  at 
a  distance  and  no  one  was  left  at  home,  he  would 
be  obliged  to  carry  every  tool  and  kitchen  utensil 
he  valued,  knowing  well  that  they  would  other- 
wise be  spirited  away  before  his  return. 

Once  Mr.  Hamilton  toiled  for  hours  grind- 
ing corn  between  two  millstones  which  turned 
by  hand.  From  the  meal  thus  secured  he  made 
a  huge  loaf  of  bread,  which  he  calculated  would 
last  a  week  at  least.  Upon  returning  from 
146 


THE  WAIT-A-BIT  THORN 


chapel  in  the  evening  he  promised  himself  a  feast 
of  home-made  bread,  a  feast  which  turned  out  to 
be  but  a  mockery  of  anticipation,  for  a  thief  had 
forced  open  the  one  tiny  window  and  made  off 
with  the  precious  loaf.  More  than  once  he  re- 
turned home  to  find  a  stone  left  in  the  pot  in  place 
of  the  meat  he  had  been  cooking  for  dinner. 

Whenever  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Eobert  Moffat 
met  in  the  morning  or  evening,  they  recounted  the 
losses  of  the  day  before.  Once  it  was  a  tale  about 
a  fine  draught  ox  killed  in  the  cattle-fold,  and  the 
whole  carcass,  except  one  shoulder,  carried  away. 
Again  it  was  an  account  of  sheep  with  legs  broken 
and  tails  cut  off;  sometimes,  a  flock  reduced  to 
half  its  rightful  size.  On  other  mornings  it  was 
a  story  of  cattle  driven  into  a  bog,  and  the  "acci- 
dent," as  it  was  called,  reported  too  late  to  prevent 
some  of  the  herd  falling  prey  to  hungry  hyenas  or 
hungrier  natives.  As  Robert  said,  "We  always 
had  some  tale  to  tell  about  our  losses,  but  never 
about  our  gains,  except  those  of  patience  and 
faith  in  the  unchangeable  purposes  of  God. ' ' 

The  sliest  and  most  pernicious  of  all  the  thefts 
was  perpetrated  by  the  women,  instigated  by  the 
chief's  wife,  Mahuto.    They  stole  the  one  posses- 

147 


THE    MOFFATS 


sion  most  essential  to  life,  even  the  water  supply 
which  the  missionaries  at  great  labor  had  pro- 
vided for  themselves  and  their  families.  In  the 
early  days  of  the  mission  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Mr. 
Read,  who  took  Mr.  Evans'  place,  toiled  indefat- 
igably  to  dig  a  ditch  to  carry  water  from  the 
Kuruman  River  to  the  gardens  which  the  chief 
had  given  them.  In  that  light,  sandy  soil  no  veg- 
etables would  grow  save  by  constant  irrigation, 
and  vegetables  must  be  had  to  relieve  that  noxious 
diet  of  meat  and  milk.  The  watercourse  led  for 
some  miles  from  the  river  across  the  plains  and 
through  the  native  gardens  on  its  way  to  the  mis- 
sionaries' property.  Perceiving  the  advantages 
of  the  plan,  the  w^omen  proceeded  to  cut  openings 
in  the  ditch,  thereby  flooding  their  own  gardens 
and  depriving  the  missionaries  even  of  the  needed 
supply  for  cooking.  Every  afternoon  at  three 
o'clock,  the  hottest  hour  of  the  day,  either  Robert 
or  Mr.  Hamilton  set  forth,  spade  in  hand,  to  close 
the  outlets  the  women  had  opened,  hoping  their 
drooping  gardens  might  be  revived  during  the 
night.  The  women,  meanwhile,  were  on  the  watch 
for  the  missionary's  return  from  his  three-mile 
tramp,  whereupon  they  slipped  out  and  opened 
148 


Photo.  London  Missionary  Society 


Plioto.  London  Missionary  Society 

"  THE   SMOKE   OF   A  THOUSAND  VILLAGES  " 
WITHIN    A    BECHUANA    KKAAL 


TBE  WAIT-A-BIT  THORN^ 


the  outlets  that  he  had  closed.  For  days  the  mis- 
sionaries were  left  without  a  drop  of  water  except 
what  they  carried  from  a  fountain  a  long  distance 
away.  During  those  days  the  thermometer  regis- 
tered one  hundred  and  twenty  degrees  in  the 
shade !  Remonstrance  only  brought  worse  disas- 
ter, for  the  women,  like  peevish  children,  rushed 
out  to  the  dam  where  the  water  was  diverted  from 
the  river  and  with  their  picks  completely  de- 
stroyed it,  allowing  the  stream  to  flow  undisturbed 
in  its  original  bed. 

Housekeeping  in  a  Bechuana  kraal  was  quite 
another  story  from  what  it  was  in  the  village 
where  Mary  Smith  was  born  and  bred.  If 
you  were  an  English  girl  in  Africa,  and  if  your 
neighbors  hated  you  without  cause,  if  stony  hills 
and  sandy  plains  wearied  your  eyes  with  their 
glare,  if  grass  were  the  color  of  straw,  and  veg- 
etables and  cattle  died  of  thirst,  then  would  you 
sigh  for  the  velvety  green  meadows  of  England, 
where  the  cows  were  sleek  and  fat  and  the  flowers 
a  riot  of  bloom,  where  life  was  clean  and  whole- 
some, and  people  were  friendly  to  you?  Would 
you  rebel  at  your  wretched  fate  and  determine  to 
break  your  fetters,  or  would  you  be  wistful,  per- 

149 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


haps  a  trifle  homesick,  but  hopeful,  oh,  sturdily 
hopeful,  that  some  day  a  piece  of  green,  friendly, 
Christian  England  might  be  transplanted  into 
black,  dismal  Africa?  But  if  you,  a  simple  day 
laborer,  should  by  your  pains  have  made  that 
transplanting  possible,  would  you  mind  about  the 
"labors  and  watchings  and  fastings"  which  once 
jou  had  to  endure? 


150 


CHAPTER  X 
BLACK  BUGBEAES 

I  am  ready  not  to  be  bound  only,  but  also  to  die  .  .  .  for  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus. — Saint  Paul. 


"  THERE    ON   THE 
FLOOR   SAT   HIS 
WIFE,   SHAKING 
A    MILK-SACK." 


X 

BLACK  BUGBEARS 


[ELA  KA  RARE  (Halloo,  by  my  father), 
I  thought  you  were  making  rain."  Au 
excited  black  man  burst  into  the  rain- 
maker's hut  at  Lattakoo,  exclaiming  in 
surprise  at  the  sight  which  met  his  eyes. 
He  had  come  to  congratulate  the  rain- 
maker upon  the  success  of  his  arts,  and  here  he 
was  sound  asleep,  totally  unconscious  of  the 
shower  which  had  just  fallen  upon  the  cracked 
and  withered  land.  Where  now  was  his  boasted 
skill  in  producing  rain,  when  he  did  not  even  know 
the  rain  had  fallen? 

Awaking  from  his  untimely  nap,  the  rain- 
maker saw  at  once  the  embarrassment  of  his  posi- 
tion and  looked  about  for  means  of  explaining  the 
situation.  There  on  the  floor  sat  his  wife  shaking 
a  milk-sack  to  obtain  a  little  butter  for  anointing 
her  hair.  Pointing  to  her,  he  said  with  ill- 
concealed  triumph,  ^'Do  you  not  see  my  wife 
churning  rain  as  fast  as  she  can?"  What  a  sim- 
ple, adequate  explanation!    Through  the  village 

153 


TEE   MOFFATS 


sped  the  news,  ''the  rain-maker  has  churned  the 
shower  out  of  a  milk-sack."  The  very  simplicity 
of  the  device  increased  the  magic  of  the  achieve- 
ment in  the  minds  of  the  gullible  Africans. 

For  many  months  the  region  about  Lattakoo 
had  been  a  ''dry  and  thirsty  land  where  no  water 
was."  Scarcely  a  cloud  appeared  in  the  sky,  and 
the  sun  shed  a  yellow,  sickening  glare  upon  a 
blighted  world.  Grass  became  as  stubble.  Seeds 
lay  in  the  ground  as  they  had  fallen  from  the 
hand  of  the  sower.  For  lack  of  pasturage  the 
cows  gave  no  milk  and  were  slowly  dying  of  hun- 
ger. Mere  skeletons  of  human  beings  dragged 
themselves  to  the  fields  in  search  of  unsavory 
roots  and  reptiles  to  preserve  life.  Endurance 
had  reached  the  breaking-point  when,  in  council 
assembled,  the  people  resolved  to  send  for  the 
famous  rain-maker  who  lived  among  the  Bahu- 
rutse  tribe  two  hundred  miles  to  the  northeast. 
His  craft  would  break  the  evil  spell  of  drought 
which  had  fastened  upon  the  land.  Swift  messeoi- 
gers  were  despatched  with  orders  not  to  return 
without  the  rain-maker.  When  the  allotted  time 
for  the  journey  elapsed  and  the  messengers  did 
not  return,  rumor  had  it  that  they  were  murdered. 
154 


BLACK  BUGBEARS 


Then  black  gloom  settled  upon  the  people  of  Lat- 
takoo,  while  the  burning  sunshine  fell  relentlessly 
upon  their  tousled  heads. 

One  day  a  great  shout  was  raised,  and  the  whole 
village  tumbled  out  in  commotion.  The  rain- 
maker was  coming  and  had  sent  a  forerunner  to 
bid  the  people  prepare  for  his  entry  by  washing 
their  feet.  One  and  all,  old  and  young,  sick  and 
well,  hurried  to  the  river  to  perform  his  bidding. 
At  this  juncture  dark  clouds  gathered  in  the  sky, 
and  the  villagers  rushed  forth  in  wildest  excite- 
ment to  meet  the  rain-maker,  who,  as  they  sup- 
posed, was  collecting  in  the  heavens  his  prodigious 
stores  of  rain.  As  he  descended  the  hill  into  Lat- 
takoo,  lightning  flashed  and  thunder  roared,  while^ 
the  black  people  danced  and  shouted  until  the 
earth  fairly  reverberated  with  the  clamor.  ' '  Plant 
your  gardens  upon  the  hills,"  cried  the  rain- 
maker with  pompous  satisfaction,  ''for  the  valleys 
will  be  deluged  with  water."  A  few  heavy  drops, 
of  rain  fell,  demonstrating  the  sorcerer's  skill  and 
increasing  the  din  of  ecstatic  shouting.  A  wild, 
heathenish  scene  it  was,  not  soon  to  be  forgotten 
by  the  little  group  of  Christian  missionaries  who 
watched  from  a  distance. 

155 


THE   MOFFAT S 


"\Mien  the  uproar  had  subsided,  a  few  bold 
spirits  left  the  crowd  and  strode  to  the  dwellings 
of  the  missionaries.  "Where  is  your  God?"  they 
cried  with  a  sneer.  ''Have  you  not  seen  our 
Morimo  ?  Have  you  not  beheld  him  cast  from  his 
arm  his  fiery  spears  and  rend  the  heavens  ?  Have 
you  not  heard  with  your  ears  his  voice  in  the 
clouds?  You  talk  of  Jehovah  and  Jesus;  what 
can  they  do?"  Heathenism  was  let  loose  that 
fateful  day,  and  in  its  presence  the  Christians 
were  discreetly  silent.  "Be  still,  and  know  that 
I  am  God :  I  w^ill  be  exalted  among  the  heathen. ' ' 
These  were  the  words  which  rang  dominantly  in, 
the  mind  of  Eobert  Moffat  in  that  chaotic  hour. 

Such  was  the  entry  into  Lattakoo  of  the  illus- 
trious rain-maker  who  afterwards  slept  in  his  hut 
while  the  shower  he  was  supposedly  creating  fell 
outside.  For  reasons  not  difficult  to  comprehend 
his  arts  were  less  successful  on  the  sandy  hills  and 
plains  of  Lattakoo  than  in  the  mountain  wilds  of 
the  Bahurutse,  near  the  sources  of  the  great 
rivers.  "Secret  rogues  are  disobeying  my  proc- 
lamations," he  declared  after  several  ignominious 
failures  to  produce  rain.  "You  only  give  me 
sheep  and  goats  to  kill ;  therefore,  I  can  only  make 
156 


BLACK  BUGBEARS' 


goat-rain ;  give  me  fat  slaughter  oxen,  and  I  shall 
let  you  see  ox-rain."  Where  indeed  were  ''fat 
slaughter  oxen"  to  be  found  in  that  famine- 
stricken  land? 

Goaded  to  desperation,  the  rain-maker  resorted 
to  one  trick  after  another  whereby  to  gain 
time  until  the  blessed  rain  should  fall.  Whenever 
stray  clouds  appeared,  he  would  command  the 
women  not  to  plant  or  sow  lest  they  should  scare 
the  timorous  clouds  away.  He  would  bid  them 
go  to  the  fields  and  gather  certain  roots  and 
herbs,  wherewith  he  would  light  his  mysterious 
fires  on  the  hillsides.  Warily  would  he  choose 
the  time  of  new  or  full  moon  for  his  machinations, 
knowing  well  that  atmospheric  changes  were 
likely  to  come  at  those  seasons,  if  at  all.  His  most 
ipreposterous  demand  was  for  a  live  baboon  upon 
whose  body  not  a  blemish  should  be  found,  not 
even  a  single  hair  missing.  None  knew  better 
than  the  rain-maker  the  impossibility  of  the  task 
assigned.  Nevertheless,  chosen  runners  hastened 
to  the  mountains  to  leap  from  rock  to  rock  in  mad 
pursuit  of  the  elusive  baboon.  Finally  one  was' 
caught  and  brought  in  triumph  to  the  rain-maker. 
With  a  tragic  expression  upon  his  face  he  ex- 

157 


THE    MOFFAT S 


claimed :  * '  My  heart  is  rent  in  pieces ;  I  am  dumb 
with  grief.  Did  I  not  tell  you,"  pointing  with  dis- 
guised satisfaction  to  the  animal's  scratched  ear 
and  tail,  * '  that  I  could  not  make  rain  if  there  was 
one  hair  wanting?" 

At  last  the  rain-maker  made  a  great  discovery, 
which  he  announced  with  due  solemnity.  The' 
clouds  required  strong  medicine,  and  only  the 
heart  of  a  lion  would  do  the  business.  Procure 
him  a  lion's  heart,  and  he  would  make  rain  so 
abundant  that  whole  towns  might  be  swept  away; 
with  the  flood.  Soon  after  this  proclamation  a 
lion  attacked  one  of  the  cattle  outposts,  and  hunt- 
ers went  out  to  kill  the  foe  and  procure  medicine 
for  the  clouds  at  the  same  time.  Severe  orders 
were  laid  upon  them  to  bring  the  lion's  heart/ 
whatever  the  consequences.  Fortunately,  one  or 
their  number  carried  a  gun  and  shot  the  furious 
beast  before  the  hunters  were  injured.  In  a  tri- 
umphal procession  they  returned  to  the  kraal 
bearing  the  lion's  heart  and  singing  the  conquer- 
or's song  in  lusty  chorus.  Upon  the  hilltop  could 
be  seen  the  rain-maker,  concocting  his  medicines, 
kindling  his  weird  fires,  and  stretching  forth  his- 
puny  hands  toward  the  clouds,  beckoning  and 
158 


BLACK  BUGBEARS 


cajoling,  or  else  threatening  with  vengeance  if 
they  dared  disobey.  And  yet  the  rain,  the 
precious  rain,  was  withheld.  ''There  is  a  cause 
for  the  hard-heartedness  of  the  clouds,  if  only  the 
rain-maker  could  find  it  out,"  remarked  the  chief's 
uncle  significantly. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  ''cause"  was  discov- 
ered and  with  due  ceremony  announced  to  the 
offenders.  Some  weeks  before,  Eobert  and  Mary 
Moffat  had  returned  from  a  trip  to  Griqua  Town 
and  had  transported  in  their  wagon  a  bag  of  salt ! 
That  bag  of  salt  had  frightened  the  rain  away.  It 
is  a  wise  adult  who  takes  childhood  seriously,  and 
they  were  wise  missionaries  who  never  once 
laughed  at  the  folly  of  their  child  neighbors,  but 
received  in  all  gravity  their  ridiculous  charges. 
The  bag  was  produced  and  opened  in  the  presence 
of  Mothibi  and  his  attendants.  "There  it  is,"  ex- 
claimed the  chief  gleefully,  as  he  saw  the  white 
contents.  When  upon  further  examination  the 
supposed  salt  was  found  to  be  only  white  clay  or 
chalk,  the  black  people  went  away  laughing  at 
their  own  credulity. 

For  a  long  time  the  missionaries  had  been 
objects  of  suspicion,  and  the  marvel  was  that  they 

159 


THE    MOFFATS 


had  not  been  accused  before.  On  every  occasion 
they  had  pointed  out  to  the  rain-maker  and  the 
people  the  folly  of  their  beliefs,  at  the  same  time 
proclaiming  fearlessly  the  great  realities  of  God's 
creation  and  control  of  the  universe.  "Maka  hela" 
(only  lies),  retorted  the  people  vehemently.  Dis- 
trust at  last  broke  its  bounds,  and  curses  were 
hurled  at  Mr.  Hamilton  and  Robert  Moffat  as  the 
cause  of  all  the  drought  and  misery.  Their  church 
bell  and  their  prayers  had  frightened  the  clouds 
away,  *' Don't  you,"  said  the  chief,  glaring 
fiercely  at  Moffat,  ''bow  down  in  your  house  and 
talk  to  something  bad  in  the  ground?"  A  coun- 
cil was  held  forthwith,  and  restrictions  were  laid 
upon  the  missionaries  to  which  they  refused  sub- 
mission, arguing  that  the  site  of  the  mission  had 
been  given  them  unconditionally. 

At  first  the  rain-maker  seemed  to  avoid  open 
accusation  of  the  white  men,  restrained,  perhaps, 
by  a  feeling  of  indebtedness  because  his  wife  had 
benefited  by  their  medicines.  He  himself  had 
held  half-friendly  intercourse  with  the  foreigners, 
going  occasionally  to  their  houses  and  workshop, 
even  to  the  church  itself,  and  once  or  twice  verging 
upon  frankness  in  his  conversation. 
160 


BLACK  BUGBEAR^ 


''What  am  I  to  do  to  pacify  the  people?"  he 
asked  one  day  in  despair. 

''Be  an  honest  man,"  answered  Moffat,  "and 
confess  you  have  been  misleading  them  and  your- 
self as  well." 

"They  will  kill  me,"  he  said,  and  went  away 
sorrowful.  At  his  wits'  end  to  continue  the 
fraud,  the  rain-maker  now  added  his  reproaches 
to  the  general  furor  against  the  missionaries. 

"Do  you  not  see,"  he  proclaimed  in  the  public 
fold,  "that,  when  clouds  come  over  us,  Hamilton 
and  Moffat  look  at  them?  Their  white  faces 
dispel  the  clouds  in  fright.  No  rain  can  be  ex- 
pected while  they  are  in  the  country." 

Being  informed  of  their  misdemeanor,  the  mis- 
sionaries agreed  to  look  upon  the  ground  all  day 
long  if  so  doing  would  mend  matters. 

Strangely  enough,  the  venom  of  the  people 
veered  suddenly  from  the  missionaries  to  the  rain- 
maker himself,  who  became  the  object  of  their 
bitterest  hatred.  Hearing  that  some  one  was  to 
be  speared  and  suspecting  that  the  rain-maker 
was  the  intended  victim,  Moffat  resolved  to  verify 
his  suspicions  and  save  the  man's  life,  if  possible. 
To  ferret  out  a  secret  of  that  nature  was  no  easy 

161 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


matter,  but  Moffat  hit  upon  a  plan  which  worked 
like  a  charm.  In  the  kraal  was  a  woman  of  influ- 
ence, likely  to  be  informed  of  the  plot,  who  had 
often  received  the  missionaries'  remedies  for  her 
ailments.  To  her  hut  he  went  and,  having  en- 
gaged her  in  conversation  about  her  health,  re- 
marked in  the  most  casual  manner:  *'Why  are 
they  thinking  of  killing  the  rain-maker?  They 
surely  do  not  intend  to  eat  him.  Why  not  let  the 
poor  man  go  to  his  own  land?" 

"Who  told  you?"  asked  the  woman  abruptly, 
falling  at  once  into  the  trap.  Possessed  of  the 
elusive  secret,  Moffat  made  his  way  to  the  public 
fold  where  about  thirty  leading  men  sat  in  council. 
In  no  uncertain  tones  he  charged  them  with  the 
crime  they  were  about  to  commit,  accusing  them 
of  having  made  a  god  of  a  mere  man  and  then, 
because  he  failed  to  please  them,  plotting  to  kill 
him.  An  aged  man  arose  quivering  with  rage 
and,  alluding  to  the  lean  herds,  the  starving 
people,  and  the  cattle  which  the  rain-maker  had 
devoured,  vowed  he  would  plunge  his  spear  into 
the  rain-maker's  heart  and  no  one  should  hinder 
him.  That  a  man  should  labor  to  save  the  life  of 
his  enemy,  as  their  missionary  was  doing,  was  be- 
162 


BLACK  BUGBEARS 


yond  comprehension,  as  were  the  stories  that  he 
persistently  told  them  about  a  certain  Jesus 
Christ.  What  sort  of  being,  forsooth,  was  this 
white  foreigner  who  persuaded  them  against  their 
will?  In  the  council  of  death  the  missionary's 
voice  prevailed,  and  the  rain-maker's  life  was 
saved.  Mothibi  himself  conducted  him  over  the 
plain  to  the  Matlwaring  River,  returning,  like  a 
child  conscious  of  meritorious  conduct,  to  the  mis- 
sionaries for  the  praise  they  did  not  withhold. 

The  departure  of  the  rain-maker  seemed  to  be 
the  signal  for  further  persecution  of  the  mission- 
aries. Every  mishap  was  laid  at  their  door,  and 
their  teachings  were  received  with  savage  cries 
of  "maka  hela."  If  a  Griqua  hunting  in  the 
country  overstepped  the  bounds,  his  misdeeds 
were  charged  to  the  missionaries.  If  a  native 
of  Lattakoo  went  to  visit  in  Griqualand  and 
was  ill-treated,  the  missionaries  should  have  pre- 
vented it.  One  blazing  noonday  a  chief  with  a 
retinue  of  attendants  approached  the  mission 
premises  and  sat  down  under  the  shade  of  a  large 
tree  close  by  the  Moffats'  house.  Something  sin- 
ister and  menacing  was  suggested  by  their  ap- 
pearance.   Out  in  the  field,  under  pretense  of  a 

163 


THE    2WFFATS 


hunt,  a  secret  council  had  been  held,  and  these 
men  had  come,  a  deputation  from  that  body,  to 
inform  the  missionaries  of  the  decision  reached. 
Moffat  was  occupied  in  repairing  his  wagon  near 
by,  but  upon  hearing  that  an  important  commu- 
nication was  to  be  delivered,  he  summoned  Mr. 
Hamilton,  and  the  two  waited  quietly  for  the  ver- 
dict to  be  pronounced.  In  the  door  of  their  cot- 
tage stood  Mrs.  Moffat,  the  baby  in  her  arms,  in- 
tently watching  the  crucial  scene  before  her.  The 
spokesman  stepped  forward,  assuming  an  atti- 
tude almost  impressive  as  his  spear  quivered  in 
his  right  hand.  The  chiefs  had  determined,  so 
he  said,  that  the  missionaries  should  leave  the 
country.  Hitherto  their  warnings  had  been  disre- 
garded, but  if  disobedience  continued,  violent 
measures  would  be  used  to  enforce  their  command. 
Upon  hearing  these  words,  Robert  Moffat  drew 
himself  to  the  full  height  of  his  tall  figure  and 
made  answer  in  ringing  tones : 

''If  you  are  resolved  to  rid  yourselves  of  us, 
you  must  resort  to  stronger  measures,  for  our 
hearts  are  with  you.  You  may  shed  blood  or  burn 
us  out.  We  know  you  will  not  touch  our  wives 
and  children.  Then  shall  they  who  sent  us  know, 
164 


BLACK  BUGBEARS 


and  God,  who  now  sees  and  hears  what  we  do,  shall 
know  that  we  have  been  persecuted  indeed." 

There  was  an  answering  fire  in  Mary  Moffat's 
eyes  as  she  looked  proudly  at  her  husband  and 
then  wonderingly  at  the  black  faces  which  con- 
fronted him.  Glancing  around  upon  his  com- 
panions, the  chief  shook  his  head  significantly. 
^* These  men  must  have  ten  lives,"  said  he,  "since 
they  are  so  fearless  of  death ;  there  must  be  some- 
thing in  immortality." 

Thus  saying,  he  turned  away,  and  the  whole 
company  broke  ranks  and  dispersed.  About  these 
missionaries  was  a  touch  of  that  matchless  hero- 
ism which  once  awed  a  band  of  Roman  soldiers 
into  saying,  ** Never  man  spake  like  this  man." 


165 


CHAPTER  XI 
''THE  WHITE  MAN'S  BURDEN'^ 

Take  up  the  white  man's  burden; 

Ye  dare  not  stoop  to  less, 
Nor  call  too  loud  on  Freedom 

To  cloak  your  weariness; 
By  all  ye  cry  or  whisper, 

By  all  ye  leave  or  do, 
The  silent,  sullen  peoples 

Shall  weigh  your  God  and  you. 

— Rudyard  Kipling- 


"  LITTLE   MABY   MOFFAT 
.    .    .   HAND    IN    HAND 
WITH   DICKY    .    .    . 
HEE    PLAYMATE." 


XI 

''THE  WHITE  MAN'S  BURDEN" 


UVERY  day  the  little  Mary  Moffat  was 
making  new  contacts  with  her  baby 
world,  picking  up  English  and  African 
words  to  add  to  her  mixed  vocabulary, 
toddling  with  adventurous  steps  about 
her  father's  garden,  hand  in  hand  with 
Dicky  and  Ann,  her  playmates.  Now  Dicky  and 
Ann  were  odd  playmates  for  a  little  English  girl, 
for  they  were  real  little  Bushmen  straight  from 
the  wilds.  By  the  strangest  of  fortunes  they  had 
come  to  dwell  with  the  English  family  at  Lat- 
takoo. 

One  day  Robert  Moffat  was  jolting  along  in  his 
ox-cart  when  he  came  upon  a  group  of  Bushmen 
digging  a  grave  for  a  woman  of  their  tribe.  Near 
by  a  small  girl  and  smaller  boy  watched  with 
scared  faces.  To  his  horror  Moffat  saw  that  they 
were  intending  to  bury  the  living  children  with 
their  dead  mother.  ''Give  them  to  me,"  he  en- 
treated, and  forthwith  the  black  boy  and  girl  were 
handed  over  to  their  new  sponsor,  who  took  them 

169 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


home  to  Ma-Mary  (mother  of  Mary),  as  the 
natives  called  Mrs.  Moffat.  Ma-Mary  always  had 
a  welcome  for  homeless  bairns,  and  the  little  Bush- 
man waifs  were  received  at  once  into  the  family, 
to  be  called  Dicky  and  Ann.  It  was  not  long 
before  Ann  became  a  trusty  nurse  for  the  small 
Mary  and,  by  and  by,  for  another  little  white  child, 
who  came  in  the  year  1823  to  add  her  baby  prattle 
to  the  household  life.  She,  too,  was  named  Ann, 
for  her  Scotch  grandmother,  that  dark-eyed,  won- 
derful woman  who  had  played  such  a  vital  part 
in  her  own  son's  life.  Little  Ann  Moffat  came 
into  a  troubled  world  at  a  particularly  troubled 
season,  but  to  the  Moffat  children  then  and  always 
their  father  and  mother  were  like  resourceful 
giants  who  could  fend  off  foe  and  disaster  from 
their  defenseless  flock.  In  this  childlike  conjec- 
ture they  were  not  far  from  the  simple  truth  for 
Africa  had  made  Eobert  and  Mary  Moffat  heroic. 
The  village  of  Lattakoo  was  still  stricken  with 
drought  and  famine  when  a  new  terror  added  its 
sting  to  the  general  misery.  A  frightful  enemy 
was  approaching  stealthily  from  the  east,  "eating 
up"  all  the  tribes  on  the  line  of  march.  A 
mighty  woman  named  Mantatee  was  said  to  be 
170 


''THE  WHITE  MAN'S  BURDEN'' 


leading  the  black  host,  as  many  as  the  locusts  in 
number.  Her  magic  power  supplied  the  army  with 
food  and  sent  out  swarms  of  real  locusts  as  ad- 
vance agents  of  destruction.  Desolation  and 
ruin  were  left  in  her  trail.  Such  were  the  fan- 
tastic tales  which  drifted  into  Lattakoo,  to  be  dis- 
cussed excitedly  in  the  pitshos,  or  public  meetings, 
and  in  informal  palavers,  for,  like  the  Athenians 
in  the  days  of  Saint  Paul,  the  Africans  in  the 
days  of  Robert  Moffat  *' spent  their  time  in  noth- 
ing else  but  either  to  tell  or  to  hear  some  new 
thing."  Only  the  sharp  pinch  of  hunger  or  the 
weary  drag  of  sleep  could  quell  the  African  pas- 
sion for  talk. 

Among  all  the  grotesque  reports  of  impending 
disaster  who  could  discern  the  hidden  germ  of 
truth?  Not  the  native  peoples,  for  some  believed 
and  some  disdained  and  no  one  knew  for  a  cer- 
tainty. From  his  own  observations  Moffat  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  tyrant  Chaka,  chief 
of  the  Zulus,  was  waging  his  destructive  warfare 
somewhere  to  the  eastward  and  that  his  bloody 
conquests  formed  the  basis  of  the  fabulous  stories 
which  were  told.  As  Chaka  was  too  far  away  to 
be  a  menace  to  the  Bechuanas,  Moffat  resolved 

171 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


to  carry  out  a  project  he  had  formed  some  months 
before. 

About  two  hundred  miles  to  the  north  of  Latta- 
koo  lived  a  notorious  chief  of  a  notorious  tribe, 
Makaba  of  the  Bangwaketsi.  So  masterful  were 
this  chief  and  his  people  that  the  Batlapings 
feared  them  exceedingly,  even  as  they  feared  the 
woman  Mantatee  and  her  half-mythical  army. 
Scarcely  could  they  mention  the  name  of  Makaba 
without  a  curse,  such  a  hated  enemy  had  he  be- 
come. Yet  Moffat,  with  true  missionary  zeal,  was 
bent  on  visiting  Makaba  in  his  own  domains.  His 
inclination  to  go  was  seconded  by  Makaba 's  invi- 
tation to  come,  and  accordingly  he  made  prepara- 
tions for  the  journey.  As  soon  as  his  intentions 
became  known,  Mothibi  and  the  Batlapings  furi- 
ously opposed  his  going.  Out  of  memory  and 
imagination  they  conjured  all  the  murders  Ma- 
kaba had  committed,  all  the  evil  deeds  the  tribe 
had  done.  Swearing  by  their  king  and  their 
fathers,  they  declared  that,  should  he  go,  his  doom 
was  fixed,  for  he  would  never  come  back.  Ma- 
Mary  and  the  two  children  might  as  well  depart 
at  once  for  England,  for  never  again  would  they 
see  husband  and  father. 
172 


"  THE  WRITE  MAN'S  BURDEN  " 


But  it  would  take  more  than  grisly  predictions 
to  deter  Robert  Moffat  when  once  his  purpose  was 
fixed.  With  Mr.  Hamilton  he  had  prayed  and 
deliberated,  and  both  were  convinced  that  the  jour- 
ney was  timely  and  right;  in  fact,  a  part  of  God's 
plan  for  the  development  of  the  mission.  If  suc- 
cessful, three  important  results  would  be  secured. 
The  Batlapings  and  Bangwaketsi  would  be 
brought  into  friendly  relations  and  a  clash  pre- 
vented. The  chieftainship  of  Jesus  Christ  would 
be  proclaimed  to  a  tribe  of  more  than  ordinary 
intelligence  and  prowess.  And  finally  Moffat 
would  learn  the  Bechuana  language  more  rapidly 
by  the  long  period  of  association  with  the  black 
people  exclusively. 

As  a  last  attempt  to  defeat  his  plan,  Mothibi 
forbade  some  of  his  escort  to  accompany  him.  So 
it  was  with  a  depleted  band  of  attendants  that 
Robert  Moffat  turned  away  from  Lattakoo  to 
face  the  rigors  of  an  African  journey  without  the 
one  companion  who  for  more  than  three  years 
had  lightened  every  long  jaunt  into  the  wilder- 
ness. Since  coming  to  Africa,  Mary  Moffat  had 
made  it  a  rule,  whenever  possible,  to  join  her  hus- 
band in  the  ox-cart  for  every  journey  outlasting 

173 


THE    M  OF  FATS 


two  days.  Without  Mary,  Eobert  would  not  take 
pains  to  make  himself  comfortable,  and  he  had 
had  enough  of  that  rugged  life  in  Namaqualand, 
so  she  said.  But  this  time  she  must  stay  at  home 
with  her  babies,  and  he  must  go  forth  with  his 
black  men,  and,  as  it  was  of  old  in  England,  the 
staying  and  the  waiting  were  harder  tasks  to  per- 
form than  the  dangerous  feats  which  fell  to  the  lot 
of  the  traveler.  Yet  in  the  little  reed  house  at 
Lattakoo  it  was  not  as  grievous  to  be  left  behind 
as  it  once  was  in  the  stone  house  at  Dukinfield,  for 
there  was  solace  in  the  wife's  loneliness  which  the 
maiden  sadly  missed. 

Three  days  of  wagon  travel  brought  Moffat  to 
Old  Lattakoo,  or  Letakong,  the  former  home  of  the 
Batlaping  tribe  from  which  they  had  migrated  to 
Lattakoo.  At  Letakong  the  air  was  full  of  the 
same  old  rumors  concerning  a  fierce  and  mysteri- 
ous enemy  on  the  march  toward  Bechuanaland. 
Pushing  on  to  Nokaneng,  twenty  miles  further, 
they  found  the  vague  rumors  supplanted  by  defi- 
nite reports  of  the  enemy's  presence.  It  was 
said  that  the  Barolongs  of  Kunwana,  one  hundred 
miles  beyond,  had  been  attacked,  and  their  town 
captured  by  the  Mantatees.  Still  the  report  was 
174 


"THE  WRITE  MAN'S  BURDEN" 


unverified,  for  spies  had  been  sent  out  and  re- 
turned with  no  further  news  to  confirm  the  tale. 
To  gain  reliable  information,  as  well  as  to  con- 
tinue the  journey,  Moffat  and  his  companions 
proceeded  to  Mosita,  fifteen  miles  from  the  town 
reported  to  be  in  possession  of  the  Mantatees. 
Halting  there,  they  prepared  the  meat  of  a 
rhinoceros  they  had  shot  and  watched  for  signs 
of  the  enemy's  presence.  As  near  as  they  were 
to  Kunwana,  silence  and  mystery  were  at  first 
the  only  answer  to  their  watch  and  inquiry.  Such 
was  the  tribal  isolation  in  the  olden  times  in 
Africa ! 

After  a  delay  of  two  days  they  were  ready  to 
discard  all  the  rumors  as  myths  of  heathen  fancy 
and  to  proceed  comfortably  on  their  way  to  the 
Bangwaketsi,  w^hen  suddenly  two  men  of  the 
Barolong  tribe  ran  excitedly  into  Mosita  with  a 
tale  to  tell  which  answered  all  questions  and 
quelled  all  doubts.  Over  beyond  the  hills,  which 
were  plainly  visible,  lay  encamped  the  great  black 
enemy,  even  that  fabulous  host  which  for  more 
than  a  year  had  terrified  the  tribes  of  Bechuana- 
land.  A  real  and  palpable  foe  they  were,  for  the 
men  had  seen  them  with  their  own  eyes  and  had 

175 


THE   MOFFAT S 


run  for  dear  life  when  the  Mantatees  swept  like 
a  horde  of  destruction  into  Kunwana.  Lattakoo 
was  to  be  the  next  object  of  attack,  so  these  wit- 
nesses affirmed. 

For  Moffat  and  his  companions  the  news 
brought  a  smft  reversal  of  plans.  Back  to  Latta- 
koo they  must  go  at  the  utmost  speed  the  creaking 
ox-cart  could  attain,  haunted  by  the  awful  fear 
that  the  Mantatees  might  outstrip  them  and  begin 
their  deadly  work  before  the  Batlapings  were 
warned  and  prepared. 

Surprise  and  consternation  seized  the  people  of 
Lattakoo  when  they  saw  their  missionary  return- 
ing through  the  thorn  hedge  and  heard  the  tidings 
he  brought.  A  public  meeting  was  held,  that  Mof- 
fat might  recount  the  information  he  had  gath- 
ered about  the  approaching  enemy.  AVhen  he  fin- 
ished speaking,  a  pall  of  gloom  settled  upon  the 
black  audience.  Finally  Mothibi  arose  and  be- 
spoke the  gratitude  of  his  people  that  Moffat  had 
been  tlogo  e  thata  (hard-headed)  and  had  pursued 
the  journey  in  defiance  of  their  wishes,  for  by  so 
doing  he  had  made  timely  discovery  of  their 
danger.  What  should  they  do  to  save  their  homes 
from  ruin,  their  tribe  from  extinction?  With  one 
176 


''THE  WHITE  MAN'S  BURDEN" 


accord  they  turned  to  the  missionary  for  advice. 
"Seek  aid  of  the  Griquas,"  he  counseled," for  they 
have  guns  and  horses."  If  the  people  desired,  he 
would  go  himself  to  Griqua  Town  and  beseech  the 
chief,  Waterboer,  to  come  to  their  help. 

His  offer  was  readily  accepted,  and  Moffat 
started  at  once  for  Griqua  Town,  traveling  per- 
force by  ox-cart,  since  horses  there  were  none. 
Upon  learning  the  missionary's  errand,  Water- 
boer, the  chief,  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away 
to  Campbell  to  rally  the  people  there  for  a  united 
stand  against  the  common  foe.  It  was  the  opinion 
of  the  Griquas  that  the  combined  forces  should  go 
forth  and  encounter  the  enemy  at  a  distance, 
rather  than  wait  for  them  to  approach  and  attack 
the  home  towns.  "With  the  promise  that  the 
Griquas,  as  soon  as  mobilized,  would  come  to  Lat- 
takoo,  Moffat  hastened  home  to  reassure  the  Bat- 
lapings,  who  were  panic-stricken  and  helpless  in 
his  absence.  The  Griqua  mode  of  resistance  met 
with  approval,  and  all  the  neighboring  tribes, 
Batlaros,  Barolongs,  Bakotus,  and  Bamairis,  were 
summoned  to  a  pitsho  to  be  held  on  the  morrow  in 
the  public  fold  at  Lattakoo. 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth 

177 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


day  of  June,  the  warriors  assembled,  one  thousand 
strong,  and  marched  in  a  body  to  the  public  fold, 
singing  war  songs,  fighting  mock  battles,  and  ges- 
ticulating wildly  as  they  went  along.  Arriving  at 
the  fold,  they  took  their  seats  on  the  ground  in  a 
circle,  leaving  an  open  arena  in  the  center  for  the 
speakers.  Each  man  held  a  glistening  shield  to 
which  a  number  of  spears  were  fastened.  A  quiver 
of  poisoned  arrows  hung  from  each  black  shoul- 
der, and  each  right  hand  brandished  a  battle- 
ax.  Some  wore  tiger  skins  and  tails,  and  brightly 
colored  plumes  waved  from  many  a  black  head. 
It  was  a  primitive  council  of  war,  with  the  pictur- 
esqueness  of  shining  armor  and  startling  color 
contrasts  vivified  by  outbursts  of  elemental  pas- 
sion in  song  and  dance  and  frenzied  motion. 

''Be  silent,  ye  Batlapings.  Be  silent,  ye  Baro- 
longs,"  proclaimed  the  first  speaker,  addressing 
every  tribe  individually.  To  each  salutation 
came  a  groan  in  response.  Then,  pointing  his 
spear  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy,  he  uttered 
curse  upon  curse  and  ended  by  thrusting  his  spear 
repeatedly  toward  the  invisible  foe.  This  was  the 
tribal  declaration  of  war,  to  which  the  audience 
responded  by  a  loud,  whistling  sound  of  applause. 
178 


«  TRE  WHITE  MAN'S  BURDEN  " 


After  each  speech  a  verse  of  a  war  song  was  sung, 
the  wild  dance  renewed,  and  silence  again  en- 
joined. 

''To-day  we  are  called  upon  to  oppose  an  enemy 
who  is  the  enemy  of  all."  Thus  spoke  Moshume 
from  the  center  of  the  fold:  "Mr.  Moffat  has  been 
near  the  camp  of  the  enemy;  we  all  opposed  his 
going ;  we  are  to-day  all  glad  that  he  went ;  he  did 
not  listen  to  us;  he  has  warned  us  and  the  Gri- 
quas.  What  are  we  now  to  do?  If  we  flee,  they 
will  overtake  us;  if  we  fight,  they  will  conquer; 
they  are  as  strong  as  a  lion ;  they  kill  and  eat,  and 
leave  nothing.  I  know  ye,  Batlapings,  that  at 
home  and  in  the  face  of  women  ye  are  men,  but 
women  in  the  face  of  the  enemy;  ye  are  ready 
to  run  when  you  should  stand;  think,  think,  and 
prepare  your  hearts  this  day;  be  united  in  one; 
make  your  hearts  hard." 

This  challenge  was  followed  by  the  exhortation 
of  an  aged  chief,  who  spoke  words  like  these: 
"The  missionary  has  discovered  our  danger  like 
the  rising  sun  after  a  dark  night ;  a  man  sees  the 
danger  he  was  in  when  darkness  shut  his  eyes. 
"We  must  not  act  like  Bechuanas ;  we  must  act  like 
Mdkooas    (white   people).    Is    this    our   pitshof 

179 


THE    MOFFAT S 


No,  it  is  the  pitsho  of  the  missionary;  therefore, 
we  must  speak  and  act  like  Makooas/' 

Several  speakers  harangued  the  assembly  in 
turn,  after  which  Mothibi,  the  chief,  spoke  the 
concluding  words.  *'Ye  warriors,  prepare  for  the 
battle;  let  your  shields  be  strong,  your  quivers 
full  of  arrows,  and  your  battle-axes  sharp  as 
hunger."  When  his  speech  was  ended,  wild  en- 
thusiasm swept  the  audience,  followed  by  a  pan- 
demonium of  excitement  lasting  nearly  two  hours. 
Women  snatched  weapons  from  the  men  and 
brandished  them  frantically,  while  old  and  young 
gesticulated  and  danced  in  an  abandon  of  frenzy. 
Meanwhile  the  great,  grim  danger  which  threat- 
ened was  well-nigh  forgotten  in  the  deluded  en- 
thusiasm for  war. 


180 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  WAR  CRY  OF  THE  MANTATEES 

The  sword  of  Jehovah  and  of  Gideon ! 

— Judges  vii.  20 


"  WATEBBOEE, 
THE 
GBIQUA 
CHIEF." 


xn 

THE  WAR  CRY  OF  THE  MANTATEES 


■Jt  LEVEN  days  after  the  tribal  declaration 
of  war  the  Griqua  horsemen  came  gal- 
loping into  Lattakoo  armed  for  the  con- 
flict. The  hour  of  action  was  at  hand 
.  after  the  long  days  of  waiting.  The 
enemy  was  now  reported  at  Letakong, 
only  thirty-six  miles  away.  At  any  moment  they 
might  be  on  the  swift  march  toward  Lattakoo. 
To  be  ready  for  instant  flight,  should  flight  become 
imperative,  the  missionaries  had  packed  their 
bulkiest  belongings  and  buried  them  in  the  ground, 
an  impromptu  safety  deposit.  Even  with  the  ar- 
rival of  the  commando  from  Griqua  To^vn,  the 
situation  was  dark  and  ominous,  for  the  combined 
troops  of  Bechuanas  and  Griquas  were  no  match 
for  the  formidable  host  of  Mantatees.  The 
whole  country  north  of  the  Orange  River  would 
be  ravaged  and  laid  waste  unless  God  vouchsafed 
his  aid  to  this  little  band  of  black  warriors,  wild 
and  vengeful  as  they  were  by  nature,  but  mar- 

183 


THE   MOFFAT S 


shaled  and  restrained  by  the  strong  hand  of  the 
missionary,  Robert  Moffat. 

At  the  united  entreaty  of  Griquas  and  Batlap- 
ings,  Moffat  had  consented  to  accompany  the 
troops,  in  the  hope  that  he  might  be  able  to  effect 
a  treaty  through  the  white  men  reported  to  be 
with  the  invading  army.  Mr.  Melville,  govern- 
ment agent  at  Griqua  Town,  had  come  with  the 
commando,  intending  to  go  on  to  the  front,  and 
the  two  old  friends  of  Cape  Tow^n  days  worked 
shoulder  to  shoulder  in  the  desperate  hours  which 
followed. 

On  the  eve  of  departure  all  met  to  pray  for 
God's  blessing  and  guidance  for  the  perilous  un- 
dertaking. The  next  day  the  warriors  went  out 
through  the  thorn  hedge,  leaving  a  forsaken  little 
village  of  huts,  populated  only  by  women  and 
children  and  old  men.  In  the  reed  house  which 
belonged  to  the  English  mission,  Mary  Moffat  was 
left  with  her  babes  and  her  little  Bushman  waifs, 
to  bide  her  husband's  return  and  to  pray  un- 
ceasingly for  his  success  and  safety. 

Meanwhile  out  in  the  wilderness  the  black 
troops  with  their  white  leaders  came  to  their  first 
encampment  at  the  Matlwaring  River.  When 
184 


THE  WAR  CRY  OF  THE  MANTATEE8 

camp  was  settled  for  the  night,  Moffat  mounted 
his  horse  and,  with  Waterboer,  the  Griqua  chief, 
and  a  few  picked  men,  rode  away  into  the  dark- 
ness to  reconnoiter  the  enemy's  position.  For 
four  hours  they  rode — rode  until  they  reached  a 
covert  of  trees  where  they  halted  until  morning. 
At  break  of  day  they  swung  into  their  saddles  and 
went  cautiously  forward  until,  on  the  opposite 
hill,  they  saw  a  monstrous  black  patch  with  jets 
of  gray  smoke  arising  here  and  there.  Was  it  a 
vast  burnt  district  from  which  the  fires  had  not  yet 
gone  out?  Look,  and  see  that  the  fires  are  tended 
by  living  hands  and  that  living  beings  swarm  the 
hillside  and  color  it  black.  It  is  the  camp  of  the 
Mantatees,  a  huge,  surging  organism  suddenly 
swept  with  confusion,  for  weird  beings  are  enter- 
ing their  domains.  Never  before  had  the  Manta- 
tees seen  a  man  on  horseback,  and  they  took  horse 
and  rider  for  one  fantastic  monster.  War-axes 
and  battle  ornaments  glistened  in  the  morning  sun 
as  their  wearers  moved  hither  and  yon  in  alarm. 
Realizing  that  they  were  observed,  Moffat  and 
his  companions  advanced  more  slowly  until  they 
came  to  a  ravine  where  a  young  woman  was  gath- 
ering acacia  pods  and  eating  them  in  the  despera- 

185 


THE    31  OFF  ATS 


tion  of  hunger.  Addressing  her  in  the  Bechuana 
language,  Moffat  and  Waterboer,  the  chief,  ex- 
plained who  they  were  and  that  they  desired  a 
parley  with  the  enemy.  Would  she  not  take  their 
message  to  the  army  encamped  on  the  hill?  After 
the  girl  had  gone  her  way,  they  again  rode  for- 
ward and  drew  rein  within  two  musket-shots  of  the 
enemy.  There  they  waited  a  half-hour,  to  give 
time  for  their  message  to  be  delivered,  as  well  as 
to  con\ince  the  Mantatees  of  their  fearlessness 
and  good  intentions.  From  this  point  they  des- 
patched a  messenger  to  carry  tidings  to  the 
Griquas,  as  yet  twenty  miles  behind.  Searching 
about  for  water  they  came  upon  a  pool,  near 
which  lay  the  skeleton-like  bodies  of  several  Man- 
tatees, who  had  evidently  crept  thither  to  drink 
and  had  died  of  hunger  and  exhaustion.  One  body 
lay  partly  in  the  water — the  only  water  there  was 
to  drink,  if  thirst  were  to  be  quenched,  and  Afri- 
can thirst  is  an  imperious  master,  admitting  no 
degree  of  fastidiousness. 

Receiving  no  answer  to  their  peaceful  message, 
save  a  few  spears  flung  savagely  in  their  direc- 
tion, they  advanced  nearer  until  they  were  within 
one  hundred  yards  of  the  Mantatee  camp.  Acting 
186 


THE  WAR  CRY  OF  THE  MANTATEES 

upon  a  prearranged  plan,  Moffat  and  a  companion 
were  about  to  swing  from  their  saddles,  intending 
to  walk  unarmed  toward  the  foe,  when  a  savage 
yell  changed  their  tactics  in  a  hurry.  *'Be  on 
guard;  they  are  preparing  to  attack!"  Moffat 
had  barely  time  to  shout  the  warning  before  sev- 
eral hundred  armed  men  rushed  furiously  toward 
them,  throwing  their  weapons  with  terrific  veloc- 
ity. Turning  the  frightened  horses,  they  galloped 
away,  not  a  moment  too  soon.  On  a  hill  within 
plain  sight  of  the  Mantatees  they  took  their  stand, 
and  there  they  waited  all  day,  shooting  two 
khoris,  or  wild  peacocks,  for  food  and  seeking  in 
vain  to  entice  the  enemy  into  peaceful  council. 

At  sunset  Moffat  mounted  his  horse  and  rode 
back  alone  to  confer  with  Mr.  Melville  and  the 
Griqua  chiefs  as  to  the  next  move  in  the  dangerous 
game.  It  was  during  this  council  that  Cornelius 
Kok,  one  of  the  four  Griqua  chiefs,  presented  his 
best  horse  to  Mr.  Moffat,  urging  its  acceptance  on 
the  plea  that  the  missionary's  life  was  more  val- 
uable than  his  own.  Had  it  not  been  for  this 
horse,  one  of  the  finest  the  commando  possessed, 
Moffat  would  have  been  sore  bested  in  the  fierce 
strife  which  followed. 

187 


THE   M  OFF  ATS 


After  an  almost  sleepless  night  in  the  bitter  cold 
the  horsemen  were  astir  and  off  before  the  break 
of  day.  When  they  came  within  one  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  of  the  Mantatee  camp,  they  drew  up 
in  battle  array,  hoping  that  the  sight  of  so  many 
armed  men  on  horseback  might  intimidate  the 
enemy  and  bring  them  to  terms.  For  answer 
came  a  savage  howl  and  a  fierce  onslaught  with 
clubs  and  javelins.  Retreating  a  short  distance, 
the  Griquas  took  their  stand,  and  Waterboer,  their 
commander-in-chief,  fired  the  first  shot,  instantly 
felling  a  Mantatee  warrior  to  the  ground.  Other 
shots  followed,  all  fired  with  the  same  sure  aim 
which  marked  one  victim  after  another.  It  was 
expected  that  the  Mantatees  would  be  dismayed 
when  they  saw  their  comrades  fall  dead  by  an 
almost  invisible  weapon  which  cut  the  air  like 
lightning,  but  no,  they  tore  spears  and  clubs  from 
the  dying  and  rushed  forward  with  a  fiendish  yell 
of  vengeance,  forcing  the  Griquas  to  retreat  a 
second  time.  In  the  thick  of  battle,  efforts  were 
made  to  renew  proposals  of  truce,  but  to  no  avail. 
Wild,  disorderly  attack  on  the  one  hand  was  met 
by  steady,  deliberate  firing  on  the  other,  with  an 
accuracy  which  was  deadly  in  its  destructiveness. 
188 


THE  WAR  CRT  OF  THE  MANTATEES 

Soon  after  the  fighting  began,  the  Batlapings 
came  bravely  to  the  front  and  began  playing  on 
the  enemy  with  their  poisoned  arrows.  Some 
half-dozen  Mantatees  had  only  to  turn  fiercely 
upon  them,  when  one  and  all  scampered  away  like 
frightened  children.  **  Women  in  the  face  of  the 
enemy;  ready  to  run  when  ye  should  stand." 
These  taunting  words  had  Moshume  spoken  in  the 
tribal  council  at  Lattakoo  two  weeks  before ! 

For  two  and  a  half  hours  the  battle  raged  be- 
tween one  hundred  Griqua  horsemen  on  the  one 
side  and  many  thousand  Mantatee  warriors  on  the 
other.  At  last,  finding  their  ammunition  rapidly 
diminishing,  the  Griquas  took  their  lives  in  their 
hands  and  began  to  storm  the  enemy's  position. 
Under  the  concentrated  fury  of  this  assault  the 
Mantatees  gave  way  and  fled  in  panic  toward  the 
west.  Instantly  the  Griqua  horsemen  cut  off  their 
escape  in  that  direction,  whereupon  they  rushed 
down  into  the  ravine,  as  if  determined  not  to  re- 
turn by  the  way  they  had  come.  Again  they  were 
intercepted,  and  wildest  confusion  prevailed.  On 
the  stony  ground  the  horses  became  well-nigh  un- 
manageable, and  in  the  swirling  clouds  of  dust 
friend    could    not    be    distinguished    from    foe. 

189 


THE    MOFFATS 


Swarms  of  black  humanity  were  fleeing  or  pursu- 
ing this  way  and  that  in  mad  terror.  To  the 
general  clash  and  tumult  were  added  the  bellow- 
ing of  oxen,  the  yells  of  defiant  warriors,  the 
groans  of  wounded  and  dying,  and  the  plaintive 
cries  of  women  and  children. 

As  the  dust  lifted  and  the  din  somewhat  sub- 
sided, the  Mantatees  were  seen  in  dogged  flight 
toward  the  town  of  Letakong,  half  a  mile  away, 
where  was  encamped  another  division  of  their 
army.  The  Griquas  followed  in  hot  pursuit,  and 
another  fierce  combat  took  place  in  the  smoke  and 
flames  of  the  burning  village  wherein  the  enemy 
tried  to  entrap  them.  At  last,  goaded  to  despera- 
tion, the  entire  host  of  Mantatee  warriors  fled 
distractedly  toward  the  north.  By  the  area  cov- 
ered by  the  army  in  flight,  Moffat  estimated  their 
number  to  be  forty  thousand,  as  over  against  one 
hundred  Griqua  horsemen  who  had  contrived  their 
defeat.  Had  both  sections  of  the  army  fought 
together,  the  issue  might  have  been  sadly  differ- 
ent. As  it  was,  not  a  single  Griqua  horseman 
lost  his  life  in  the  combat,  while  the  slain  of  the 
Mantatees  numbered  four  or  five  hundred  and  the 
field  was  strewn  with  the  dying. 
190 


THE  WAR  CRY  OF  THE  MANTATEES 

The  instant  the  camp  was  deserted  by  its  war- 
riors and  by  the  Griquas  who  followed  in  pursuit, 
the  Bechuanas  rushed  in  to  plunder  the  dead  and 
murder  the  living.  For  the  sake  of  a  few  copper 
rings  worn  on  neck,  arm,  or  leg,  or  for  the  hollow 
boast  of  having  killed  a  Mantatee,  they  began  to 
butcher  the  women  and  children  with  their  spears 
and  war-axes.  Into  this  orgy  of  bloodshed  Moffat 
galloped  at  full  speed,  his  eyes  flaming  and  his 
voice  ringing  with  determination.  Before  his 
commanding  presence  many  a  black  hand  was 
stayed  from  its  brutal  deed.  When  the  women 
realized  that  the  white  man  was  their  savior  in- 
stead of  their  murderer,  they  cried  piteously,  *'I 
am  a  woman ;  I  am  a  woman. ' ' 

Unto  the  moment  of  death  the  Mantatee  men 
defied  their  assailants,  sometimes  fighting  grimly 
when  ten  or  twelve  spears  were  piercing  their 
bodies.  Fifty  Bechuanas  would  surround  a 
single  wounded  man,  who  would  fight  to  the  death 
rather  than  yield.  Several  times  Moffat  nar- 
rowly escaped  the  spears  and  war-axes  of  wounded 
Mantatees  while  seeking  to  rescue  the  women  and 
children.  Once  he  was  caught  in  a  deadly  trap, 
from  which  there  seemed  no  egress  to  safety.    A 

191 


TEE    MOFFAT S 


rocky  height  was  on  one  side  and  the  enemy  on  the 
other,  \vith  but  a  single  narrow  passage  along 
which  he  could  make  a  dash  for  safety  on  his 
swift  steed.  Midway  in  this  passage  rose  the 
grim  figure  of  a  man,  wounded  to  death  but  rally- 
ing all  his  strength  for  one  last  stroke  of  revenge. 
There  he  stood,  weapon  in  hand,  awaiting  his 
prey.  At  that  juncture  a  Griqua  from  a  distance 
perceived  the  missionary's  peril,  raised  his  gun, 
and  fired  a  shot  which  whizzed  so  close  to  Moffat 
that  he  shuddered,  but  which  in  one  instant  cleared 
his  path  to  safety. 

The  battle  was  over  and  the  victory  won,  but  the 
old  danger  lingered  still.  Back  in  Lattakoo,  when 
the  warriors  returned  to  their  huts,  the  old  fear 
gathered  new  force  from  realization  of  the 
enemy's  might.  The  Mantatees  were  coming,  so 
they  heard,  coming  to  Lattakoo  to  avenge  their 
loss.  Without  ''the  thunder  and  lightning  of  the 
Griquas,"  as  they  termed  the  musketry,  the 
Bechuanas  would  be  as  the  dust  of  their  feet. 
Alone,  they  were  helpless. 

A  night  of  sleepless  vigil  followed  the  receipt 
of  these  tidings.  The  little  town  lay  in  utter 
darkness,  save  for  embers  of  the  household 
192 


THE  WAH  CRY  OF  THE  MANTATEES 

fires,  around  which  crouched  trembling  families, 
harassed  by  constant  fears. 

The  night  was  black  with  darkness  and  tense 
with  foreboding.  The  men  remained  out  of  doors 
with  ears  strained  to  catch  the  first  unusual  sound. 
The  dogs  barked  incessantly  as  if  aware  of  the 
human  dread.  No  spies  were  sent  out,  no  watch 
set;  not  a  single  inhabitant  was  between  the 
lonely  village  and  the  field  of  battle.  Scarcely  a 
person  dared  stir  in  the  breathless  stillness, 
broken  only  by  the  ominous  barking  of  the  dogs. 
Once  a  mournful  cry  went  up  from  a  corner  of 
the  village,  and  every  heart  palpitated  in  response. 
It  was  the  cry  of  the  bereaved  mother  and  chil- 
dren mourning  for  the  father  killed  by  the  hand 
of  the  enemy. 

In  the  kitchens  and  outhouses  of  the  mission, 
the  Mantatee  women  who  had  been  sheltered  there 
looked  on  unmoved  or  slept  in  utmost  indiffer- 
ence. Mrs.  Moffat  wrapped  the  sleeping  babies 
in  warm  garments,  to  be  ready  for  flight  to  the 
mountains  should  there  be  chance  for  escape.  By 
the  door  Moffat  hung  his  coat  over  his  gun,  so  that 
he  could  snatch  both  in  case  of  hurried  flight. 
Imagination  pictured  a  host  of  warriors  surround- 

193 


TEE   MOFFATS 


ing  the  town,  awaiting  only  the  light  of  day  to 
begin  a  wholesale  massacre. 

The  climax  of  terror  was  reached  when,  toward 
morning,  a  woman  ran  panting  into  the  village 
and  dropped  in  a  faint  of  exhaustion  at  the  en- 
trance of  a  native  house.  She  had  run  the  whole 
night  through,  having  barely  escaped  the  spears 
of  the  enemy  the  day  before.  When  she  recovered 
consciousness,  the  first  word  upon  her  lips  was 
the  one  word  all  dreaded  to  hear,  "The  Manta- 
tees!"  Like  an  electric  current  the  fatal  word 
burned  its  way  through  the  village,  scorching 
every  heart  with  fear. 

It  was  a  night  when  faith  was  put  to  a  crucial 
test.  Then,  if  ever,  must  the  trust  of  the  Chris- 
tian be  vindicated,  his  belief  in  the  watchful  love 
of  God  demonstrated.  On  that  night  the  mission- 
aries were  stalwart  witnesses  to  the  power  of 
their  religion  to  give  courage  and  endurance  in 
the  hour  of  trial.  Once  and  again  awed  chiefs  and 
people  stole  to  their  door  for  sympathy  and  sup- 
port. For  themselves,  as  they  afterwards  said, 
fear  was  held  within  bounds  by  perpetual  prayer 
to  God. 

Daylight  came  at  last  and  dispelled,  as  only 
194 


THE  WAR  CRY  OF  THE  MANTATEES 

daylight  can,  many  specters  of  the  night.  All  was 
quiet  beyond  the  hedge  of  thorn  as  far  as  eye  could 
see.  Not  a  Mantatee  was  in  sight,  not  a  hint  of 
his  presence.  Gradually  the  terror  abated,  but  as 
the  Griquas  were  unable  to  come  to  their  assist- 
ance and  the  Mantatees  had  not  yet  departed 
homeward,  it  was  decided,  with  the  full  sanction 
of  the  chiefs,  that  the  missionary  families  should 
remove  to  Griqua  Town  to  stay  until  the  danger 
was  past. 
Having  seen  wife  and  children  settled  at  Griqua 
Town,  Robert  Moffat  returned  alone  to  Lattakoo 
to  share  the  problems  and  perils  of  his  chosen 
people.  One  of  those  problems  was  already 
solved,  for  the  Batlapings  had  learned  at  last  to 
value  and  love  their  missionary.  Had  they  been 
an  idolatrous  people,  they  would  have  been  ready 
to  worship  him  as  a  god,  for  had  he  not  shown 
them  a  love  surpassing  human?  Easily  could  he 
have  taken  his  family  and  slipped  away  to  safety, 
but  instead  he  chose  to  stand  by  the  black  people 
in  their  need,  to  secure  for  them  the  help  of  the 
Griqua  horsemen,  without  which  they  would  have 
shared  the  fate  of  the  other  Bechuana  villages. 
The  missionary's  resources  and  unselfishness  they 

195 


THE   MOFFATS 


had  learned  to  value,  but  when  would  they  take 
heed  to  his  message,  that  priceless  message  for 
which  alone  he  had  left  home  and  country  and  cast 
in  his  lot  among  them? 


196 


CHAPTER  XIII 
THE  WIFE'S  PAET 


Oh,  I  must  feel  your  brain  prompt  mine, 

Your  heart  anticipate  my  heart, 
You  must  be  just  before,  in  fine, 

See  and  make  me  see,  for  your  part, 
New  depths  of  the  divine! 

— Robert  Browning  (to  his  wife) 


"  SEAL  LITTLE  BUSHMEN,   STRAIGHT  FBOM 
THE   WILDS." 


XIII 
THE  WIFE'S  PART 


Lattakoo,  July  28,  1824. 
My  dear  Robert: 

It  is  with  a  faint,  faint  hope  that  you  will  ever  see  this 
that  I  take  up  my  pen,  it  being  so  very  improbable  that  you 
will  meet  with  the  Barolong  who  takes  it ;  but  the  possibility  of 
such  a  thing  compels  me  not  to  neglect  the  opportunity, 
anxious  as  I  am  to  convey  to  your  affectionate  heart  tidings  of 
our  welfare.  Our  covenant  God  has  graciously  protected  us 
and  all  about  us  ever  since  you  left,  and  I  have  strong  con- 
fidence that  he  has  also  been  with  you.  But  oh,  my  dear,  I 
find  it  requires  the  exercise  of  some  fortitude  to  be  calm  and 
serene  under  such  a  separation,  in  such  circumstances,  and  at 
such  a  time,  in  a  land  of  barbarians.  In  vain  has  my  heart 
fluttered  when  I  have  seen  a  strange  face,  hoping  he  would 
pull  out  from  under  his  kaross  a  letter,  no  post  yet  having 
arrived  from  you,  and  I  began  to  think  that  I  must  not  have 
that  exquisite  pleasure  till  the  living  epistle  bursts  in  upon  me 
himself.  You  know  I  dreaded  your  departure  exceedingly.  I 
had  many  fears  about  your  health  from  that  ugly  cough.  I  had 
also  fears  on  account  of  the  tumultuous  state  of  the  land. 
I  expected  also  to  suffer  a  good  deal  myself  from  low  spirits 
in  my  great  solitude,  but  in  this  I  was  mistaken,  having  been 
remarkably  composed  and  very  seldom  in  a  melancholy  mood. 
When  I  felt  it  coming  on,  I  made  great  efforts  to  dispel  it  and 
have  been  successful.    I  feel  very  thankful  for  the  support  I 

199 


THE   MOFFATS 


have  bad,  and  derive  encouragement  from  it  that  all  is  well 
with  you,  and  that  your  journey  is  under  the  smiles  of  our 
Heavenly  Father.  I  have  also  great  liberty  at  the  throne  of 
grace  for  you  and  the  cause  of  Christ. 

About  ten  days  after  your  departure  two  hastily  written 
notes  from  Mr.  Helm  to  Mr.  Hamilton  arrived,  bearing  dif- 
ferent dates,  the  last  of  them  the  sixth  instant,  saying  that  an 
immense  body  of  Mantatees  was  rapidly  approaching  Griqua 
Town  and  that  the  Koranna  mission  was  destroyed.  The 
Mantatees  were  not  the  same  people  who  fought  at  Letakong. 
You  will  easily  conceive  how  I  felt  with  regard  to  you,  but  was 
enabled  in  the  confidence  of  faith  to  commend  you  to  our 
covenant  God.  The  idea  of  any  of  them  on  their  return  falling 
in  with  your  single  wagon  is  truly  shocking. 

Since  you  left,  Jacob  Cloete,  with  a  number  of  armed 
Korannas  on  horses,  besides  a  number  of  Bushmen,  has  been 
making  terrible  ravages  at  a  town  beyond  Lehaise's,  has  taken 
a  great  number  of  cattle,  killed  eight  chiefs,  besides  others  and 
women  and  children.  By  all  accounts  he  has  acted  most  bar- 
barously ;  the  people  here  were  much  alarmed,  as  he  threatened 
to  come  here  to  get  powder.  Of  course  I  had  some  fears, 
but  am  happy  to  say  he  has  gone  back  to  his  place. 

I  know  you  will  excuse  the  brevity  of  this  letter  when  you 
reflect  on  the  uncertainty  of  getting  it.  I  will  promise  the 
man  a  few  beads  if  he  brings  it  to  you. 

With  a  throb  of  yearning  at  her  heart  Mary- 
Moffat  folded  the  letter  and  handed  it  to  the  black 
man  who  would  deliver  it  to  her  husband  if 
200 


THE  WIFE'S  PART 


perchance  he  fell  in  with  his  ox-cart  somewhere 
on  the  long  trail  to  the  north.  It  was  exactly  four 
weeks  since  Moffat  had  left  home  in  the  company 
of  some  Griqua  hunters  to  resume  the  interrupted 
journey  to  Makaba,  chief  of  the  Bangwaketsi.  At 
the  time  of  his  departure  the  Mantatee  invaders 
were  supposed  to  have  dispersed,  but  he  had  not 
been  absent  many  days  before  the  threat  of  their 
return  was  heard  in  Lattakoo.  About  the  same 
time  a  mob  of  savage  marauders  from  various 
tribes  collected  in  the  mountains  forty  miles  to  the 
west  and  began  a  mad  career  of  plunder  and 
bloodshed.  Before  Moffat  went  away,  it  had  been 
decided  to  remove  the  mission  station  from  Latta- 
koo to  Kuruman,  eight  miles  away  in  a  fertile  re- 
gion near  the  source  of  the  Kuruman  River.  To 
prepare  for  removal,  Mr.  Hamilton  spent  the 
week-days  at  the  new  site,  returning  to  Lattakoo 
for  Sunday  services,  which  were  conducted  regu- 
larly in  the  little  church.  His  absence  during  the 
week,  together  with  her  husband's,  left  Mrs. 
Moffat  alone  with  her  small  children,  attended 
only  by  a  young  Hottentot  woman,  who  occupied 
an  adjoining  house. 

One    evening    the    Hottentot    girl    rushed   in, 

201 


THE   MOFFATS 


wringing  her  hands  and  crying,  "The  Mantatees 
have  been  seen  at  Nokaneng  and  are  on  their  way 
.to  Lattakoo."  Mrs.  Moffat  sent  a  messenger  to 
Mothibi  to  inquire  if  the  report  were  correct ;  to 
which  he  replied  that  it  was,  but  that  little  danger 
was  to  be  apprehended  before  morning.  Commit- 
ting herself  and  her  little  charges  to  the  protec- 
tion of  God,  she  lay  down  **in  quietness  and  con- 
fidence" and  fell  asleep.  At  midnight  she  was 
awakened  by  a  loud  rapping  on  the  door.  Who 
could  it  be?  Was  it  Jacob  Cloete,  the  leader  of 
the  mountain  brigands,  or  was  it  a  messenger  to 
announce  the  approach  of  the  Mantatees  ?  Going 
to  the  door  she  asked,  "Who  is  there?"  Mothi- 
bi's  voice  was  heard  in  reply.  It  was  the  chief 
himself  who  had  come  with  a  retinue  of  attend- 
ants to  warn  her  that  the  Mantatees  were  near  at 
hand.  Admitting  her  visitors,  who  crowded  the 
little  house  to  its  utmost  capacity,  Mrs.  Moffat 
seated  herself  calmly  at  a  table  in  the  midst  of  the 
noisy  group  and  wrote  to  Mr.  Hamilton,  asking 
him  to  come  at  once  to  her  relief.  From  that 
moment  until  daylight,  uproar  and  confusion 
sounded  from  every  quarter  of  the  village. 
At  eight  o'clock  Mr.  Hamilton  arrived  with  the 


202 


THE  WIFE'S  PART 


three  Hottentots  who  had  been  working  with  him 
at  Kuruman,  and  preparations  were  hastily  made 
for  flight.  In  the  town  warriors  were  assembling, 
and  thousands  of  people  were  hiding  away 
precious  possessions  or  packing  them  for  sudden 
departure.  One  messenger  after  another  ran  in 
through  the  thorn  hedge,  each  with  the  same  fatal 
tidings  on  his  lips.  At  noon  came  a  special  runner 
with  the  light  of  good  news  on  his  face.  The 
Mantatees  had  changed  their  course,  he  cried  with 
joy,  and  were  headed  toward  the  Barolongs  in- 
stead of  the  Batlapings.  Then  all  the  black  people 
of  Lattakoo  rejoiced  greatly,  but  to  the  one  white 
woman  in  their  midst  the  tidings  brought  a  thrust 
of  fear  sharper  than  any  she  had  yet  experienced. 
In  a  flash  she  realized  that  the  danger  had  been 
lifted  from  herself  and  the  children  only  to  be 
thrown  with  greater  menace  across  the  path  of 
her  husband.  At  this  very  time  he  would  be  on 
his  way  home,  unattended  by  the  Griqua  hunters, 
and  in  his  solitary  ox-wagon  with  some  half-dozen 
companions  would  encounter  the  whole  host  of 
Mantatee  savages.  There  was  nothing  on  earth 
to  save  him  except  the  direct  interposition  of  God. 
For  three  dreadful  weeks  the  wife  was  left  in 

203 


TBE   MOFFAT S 


ignorance  of  her  husband's  fate,  though  tortured 
every  now  and  then  with  reports  of  his  destruc- 
tion. One  man  had  seen  a  broken  fragment  of 
his  wagon;  another  a  piece  of  his  saddle,  and 
others  had  picked  up  bits  of  his  linen  stained  with 
blood.  At  last  a  few  men  were  persuaded  to  go 
out  as  a  search  party,  when,  on  the  very  day  of 
their  departure,  a  battered  ox-cart  crept  into  Lat- 
takoo  bearing  the  beloved  wanderer  himself,  safe 
and  sound.  The  meeting  that  hour  in  the  little 
reed  house  at  Lattakoo  was  charged  with  joy  and 
thanksgiving  which  recalled  that  day  in  the  event- 
ful past  when  Mary  Smith  came  to  her  lover's 
arms  in  Cape  Town. 

For  his  part,  Moffat  had  a  wonderful  deliverance 
to  recount.  He  had  traveled  safely  to  Makaba's 
domain,  a  chiefdom  comprising  some  twenty  vil- 
lages with  seventy  thousand  inhabitants.  He  had 
stood  in  the  presence  of  the  redoubtable  chief  and 
received  marked  tokens  of  his  good-will.  Like 
Mothibi,  Makaba  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  mission- 
ary's message,  although  apparently  pleased  at  the 
suggestion  of  having  a  missionary  sent  to  his 
tribe.  With  this  hope  kindling  his  thoughts  Mof- 
fat started  for  home,  the  interest  of  his  visit 
204 


THE  WIFE'S  PABT 


mingling  with  the  eagerness  which  always  stirred 
his  heart  when  returning  to  Mary  and  the  bairns. 
According  to  agreement,  the  Griquas  remained 
behind  to  hunt,  and  Moffat  set  forth  in  his  ox-cart 
with  his  half-dozen  attendants.  He  had  jour- 
neyed but  a  short  distance  when,  to  his  surprise, 
he  was  overtaken  by  the  Griqua  chief,  Berend 
Berend,  and  his  band  of  huntsmen.  Berend 
Berend,  who  was  himself  a  Christian  man,  had 
been  uneasy  about  the  missionary's  safety  with 
so  small  a  bodyguard  and  had  consequently  given 
up  the  hunt  to  escort  him  home. 

Near  Pitsana,  the  chief  town  of  the  Barolong 
tribe,  this  little  company  of  twenty  Griqua  horse- 
men encountered  the  whole  fierce  army  of  Man- 
tatees  and  routed  them  completely,  thus  saving 
the  Barolongs  from  slaughter  and  the  missionary 
from  a  fate  unspeakable.  When  the  awful  danger 
was  passed,  Berend  Berend  looked  with  awe  into 
the  face  of  Robert  Moffat  and  spoke  of  the  wonder- 
ful manifestation  of  God's  providence  they  had 
seen  that  day.  After  the  journey  was  over,  Mary 
Moffat  looked  with  yearning  affection  into  the  face 
of  her  husband,  and  thanked  God  for  giving  him 
back,  as  it  were,  from  the  dead. 

205 


THE   M  OFF  ATS 


Such  was  the  story  of  the  first  missionary  jour- 
ney to  Makaba,  chief  of  the  Bangwaketsi ;  in  which 
the  wife's  part  was  not  the  least  in  heroism  and 
importance. 


For  seven  and  a  half  years  Robert  Moffat  had 
been  a  voluntary  exile  from  home  at  the  call  of  the 
Leader  whom  he  followed.  In  Afrikaner's  kraal, 
the  scene  of  his  early  labors,  there  had  been  quick 
results  to  cheer  his  heart,  but  in  Lattakoo  only  the 
Leader  himself  could  conquer  the  dull  discourage- 
ment of  the  fruitless  days.  On  the  desert  up- 
lands of  Great  Namaqualand,  loneliness  would 
have  well-nigh  crushed  the  youthful  pioneer  had 
not  Afrikaner  and  his  tribe  received  his  word  with 
gladness  and  himself  with  friendliness.  In 
Bechuanaland,  he  could  the  more  easily  wait  long 
for  the  harvest  because  Mary  was  by  his  side  to 
share  his  hope  and  his  daily  battle.  God  had  thus 
mercifully  provided  for  the  needs  of  his  servant, 
according  to  the  promise  that  he  "will  not  suffer 
you  to  be  tempted  above  that  ye  are  able ;  but  will 
with  the  temptation  make  also  the  way  of  escape, 
that  ye  may  be  able  to  endure." 
206 


THE  WIFE'S  PART 


When,  in  the  year  1829,  Christian  Afrikaner  had 
come  in  his  ox-cart  to  Lattakoo  and  journeyed 
with  the  missionaries  over  the  road  to  Griqua 
Town,  they  had  parted  in  glad  anticipation  of  the 
day  when  Afrikaner  and  his  tribe  should  remove 
to  the  neighborhood  of  his  beloved  friend,  Robert 
Moffat.  Scarcely  two  years  later  a  message  came 
creeping  across  the  desert  from  Great  Namaqua- 
land,  bringing  sincere  mourning  to  the  missionary 
family  at  Lattakoo.  Afrikaner  was  dead.  From 
his  humble  earthly  life  with  its  narrow  compass 
of  tribal  villages,  but  with  its  boundless  hope,  he 
had  passed  into  the  blessed  fellowship  of  the 
saints  of  all  times  and  races. 

When  he  realized  that  his  death  was  near,  Afri- 
kaner called  the  tribe  together,  as  Joshua  once 
summoned  all  the  tribes  of  Israel,  to  receive  his 
parting  blessing  and  admonition.  '^We  are  not," 
said  he,  ''what  we  were,  savages,  but  men  profess- 
ing to  be  taught  according  to  the  gospel.  Let  us 
then  do  accordingly.  Live  peaceably  with  all 
men,  if  possible.  Eemain  together  as  you  have 
done  since  I  knew  you.  Then,  when  the  directors 
think  fit  to  send  you  a  missionary,  you  may  be 
ready  to  receive  him.    .   .   .     My  former  life  is 

207 


THE   MOFFAT S 


stained  with  blood,  but  Jesus  Christ  has  pardoned 
me,  and  I  am  going  to  heaven.  Oh!  beware  of 
falling  into  the  same  evils  into  which  I  have  led 
you  frequently ;  but  seek  God,  and  he  will  be  found 
of  you  to  direct  you." 

In  course  of  time  the  Wesleyans,  with  whom 
Robert  Moffat  had  been  connected  in  his  boyhood, 
sent  missionaries  to  Great  Namaqualand  who  set- 
tled in  close  proximity  to  Afrikaner's  kraal. 
Under  their  ministrations,  Titus  Afrikaner,  that 
fierce  and  rebellious  brother  of  the  chief,  became 
a  convert  to  the  religion  he  once  violently  op- 
posed. Peace  and  harmony  were  restored  among 
the  tribes  where  strife  had  prevailed.  In  his 
reminiscent  moods  Moffat  looked  gratefully  back 
to  those  brief  years  in  Afrikaner's  kraal  and  saw 
in  memory  that  travel-stained,  lovable  figure,  who 
in  his  utter  loyalty  would  willingly  have  laid  down 
his  life  for  his  missionary. 

In  Lattakoo  Robert  and  Mary  drank  the  bitter 
cup  of  defeat.  Not  a  single  Batlaping  had  yet 
shown  the  faintest  interest  in  the  real  purpose  of 
their  life  among  them.  Petty  persecution  and 
hostility  had  given  way  to  respect  and  affection 
as  they  saw  evidences  of  the  missionaries'  skill 
208 


THE  WIFE'S  PART 


and  unselfishness,  especially  as  manifested  in  the 
Mantatee  invasion.  But  to  listen  attentively  to 
their  teaching  about  a  Great  Being  whom  they 
could  not  see,  and  about  a  life  after  death,  was  a 
task  too  irksome,  unless  rewarded  by  a  bit  of  food 
or  a  trinket  as  equivalent  for  their  time.  Even 
to  speak  of  death  drove  the  poor  people  distracted, 
for  death  to  them  meant  annihilation,  and  the  idea 
was  ghastly  in  its  repugnance.  To  ask  them  to 
believe  in  a  resurrection  was  preposterous,  for 
had  they  not  seen  the  bleached  bones  of  the  dead 
lying  on  the  sand?  "Maka  hela"  (only  lies)  was 
their  first  comment,  softened  as  time  went  on  into 
exclamations  of  surprise  at  the  missionaries' 
credulity. 

In  all  the  accustomed  life  of  the  Batlaping  peo- 
ple there  was  nothing  to  suggest  the  worship  of 
any  being  superior  to  themselves,  nothing  for  the 
missionary  to  use  as  a  point  of  contact  between 
heathen  superstitions  and  Christian  faith.  No 
temple,  no  idol,  no  wayside  shrine,  not  even  a 
sacred  stream  or  tree;  no  word  in  the  language 
to  express  the  meaning  of  God !  If  the  missionary 
searched  for  ancient  legends  handed  down  from 
generations  past,  there  were  none  to  be  found ;  if 

209 


THE    MOFFAT S 


he  watched  for  a  glint  of  understanding  or  a 
flicker  of  desire  upon  the  faces  of  his  black  audi- 
ence, he  watched  in  vain.  "They  look  upon  the 
sun  with  the  eyes  of  an  ox,"  observed  Mr.  Camp- 
bell as  he  traveled  among  them.  The  highest  bliss 
their  minds  could  conceive  was  **a  great  fire  cov- 
-^red  with  pots  full  of  meat."  The  missionary's 
effort,  as  Mr.  Moffat  said,  was  like  that  of  the 
child  who  tries  to  grasp  the  polished  surface  of  a 
mirror,  or  the  farmer  who  seeks  to  convert  the 
granite  rock  into  fertile  soil. 

''Mary,"  said  Robert  Moffat  one  day  to  his 
wife,  "this  is  hard  work;  think  how  long  we  have 
been  preaching  to  this  people,  and  no  fruits  yet 
appear." 

"It  is  hard  work,"  she  replied,  "but  take  cour- 
age ;  the  gospel  has  not  yet  been  preached  to  them 
in  their  own  language  wherein  they  were  born. 
They  have  heard  only  through  interpreters,  and 
interpreters  who  have  themselves  no  just  under- 
standing or  real  love  of  the  truth.  We  must  not 
expect  the  blessing  until  you  are  able  from  your 
owTi  lips  and  in  their  own  language  to  convey  it 
through  their  ears  to  their  hearts." 

"From  that  hour,"  declared  Moffat  in  recount- 
210 


THE  WIFE'S  PART 


ing  the  conversation, '  *  I  gave  myself  with  untiring 
diligence  to  the  acquisition  of  the  language." 

There  were  peculiar  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
acquiring  the  native  speech  of  the  Bechuana 
people.  It  had  no  written  form,  and  the  chance 
to  practise  the  oral  language  was  hindered  by  the 
presence  of  many  Dutch-speaking  people  at  Lat- 
takoo.  Moreover,  wars  and  rumors  of  wars  had 
three  times  driven  the  Moffats  in  hasty  flight  to 
Griqua  Town,  thus  seriously  impeding  study.  At 
Kuruman,  the  new  station  to  which  they  removed 
in  1825,  hard  manual  labor  claimed  Moffat's  time 
and  strength  for  well-nigh  two  years.  Sometimes 
he  had  to  stand  in  water  up  to  his  waist,  cutting 
thatch  for  his  new  house.  Under  the  burning  sun 
every  phase  of  the  builder's  craft  fell  to  his  lot 
to  perform.  Yet  in  those  strenuous  months  he 
found  time  to  complete  a  spelling-book,  catechism, 
and  small  portions  of  the  Bible,  and  to  send  them 
to  the  Cape  for  publication.  Eeligious  services 
were  held  as  usual  for  the  Batlapings,  who  were 
congregating  in  villages  of  huts  along  the  edge  of 
the  valley. 

In  1827  the  first  permanent  building  was  com- 
pleted, a  substantial  house  of  stone  to  take  the 

211 


THE   MOFFATS 


place  of  the  flimsy  wooden  structure  which  served 
as  temporary  abode.  Ditches  had  been  dug  and 
water  conducted  from  the  river  to  the  gardens 
which  already  bloomed  in  the  valley.  The  new 
station  was  now  so  well  developed  that  Mr.  Ham- 
ilton and  Mr.  Hughes,  a  recent  addition  to  the  mis- 
sionary staff,  agreed  to  complete  the  building 
operations  and  release  Moffat  for  language  study. 
For  this  purpose  he  went  on  a  tour  among  the 
Barolong  tribe,  living  for  ten  weeks  a  nomadic, 
semi-savage  life  in  the  midst  of  heathen  dance  and 
song  and  dirty,  disorderly  huts.  The  unsavory 
period  of  exile  gained  its  point,  for  upon  his  return 
he  preached  a  sermon  in  such  excellent  Sechuana 
that  Mothibi  was  dumfounded  and  could  find  no 
criticism  to  make  save  that  it  savored  too  much 
of  the  Serolong  dialect. 

Some  time  before  Moffat  left  for  his  visit  to  the 
Barolongs,  a  baby  boy  had  come  to  join  the  family 
circle  at  Kuruman,  another  Robert  Moffat  by 
name.  In  her  new  house,  with  three  young  chil- 
dren to  mother,  as  well  as  a  young  settlement  to 
watch  over,  Mrs.  Moffat  lived  the  busy  life  of  a 
pioneer  during  those  ten  weeks  while  her  husband 
was  away. 
212 


Photo.    Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  Methodist  Episcopal  Church 


Photo.  Loudon  Missionary  Society 

TREKKING    IN    SOUTH    AFRICA 
KURUMAN    IN    WINTER 


THE  WIFE'S  PAET 


Among  that  little  band  of  missionaries  in 
Bechuanaland  there  was  one  whose  faith  had 
never  wavered,  though  often  her  bodily  strength 
was  spent.  ''I  may  not  live  to  see  it,  but  the 
awakening  will  come  as  surely  as  the  sun  will  rise 
to-morrow,"  said  Mrs.  Moffat  with  face  aglow. 
One  day  a  letter  arrived  from  Mrs.  Greaves,  an  old 
friend  in  England,  asking  what  gift  she  could 
send  to  help  the  mission  most.  The  reply  of  Mary 
Moffat  to  that  question  should  be  told  throughout 
the  world,  ''wheresoever  the  gospel  shall  be 
preached,  as  a  memorial  of  her."  "Send  us  a 
communion  service,"  she  wrote;  "we  shall  want 
it  some  day."  A  communion  service,  when  as  yet 
there  was  not  a  single  convert  to  join  in  this  love 
feast  of  the  Christians!  But  not  even  the  faith 
of  Mary  Moffat  could  quite  foresee  the  thrilling 
events  which  were  to  take  place  in  the  Kuruman 
mission  before  the  arrival  of  that  precious  gift 
from  England. 


213 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 

I  know  a  land  that  is  sunk  in  shame, 

Of  hearts  that  faint  and  tire — 

And  I  know  of  a  Name,  a  Name,  a  Name, 

Can  set  that  land  on  fire. 

Its  sound  is  a  brand,  its  letters  flame, 

I  know  of  a  Name,  a  Name,  a  Name, 

Will  set  that  land  on  fire. 


"WOMEN    AND 
GIRLS    .    .    . 
GATHERED 
AROUND 
MRS.    MOFFAT 
TO   LEARX 
THE   USE  OF 
THE    NEEDLE." 


XIV 
THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 


ARON  JOSEPHS  was  not  of  Hebrew 
descent,  as  his  name  might  imply,  but 
an  African  freedman  from  Cape  Col- 
ony. As  a  runaway  slave,  he  had  been 
helped  by  a  friendly  Englishman  to 
purchase  his  freedom  for  the  sum  of 
fifteen  hundred  rix-dollars,  which  sum  he  had 
secured  in  ivory  for  the  purpose.  "With  his  wife 
and  three  children,  he  had  subsequently  settled  on 
a  farm  in  the  interior  not  far  from  the  Kuruman 
mission.  To  educate  his  children,  as  well  as  in- 
crease his  own  proficiency  in  reading  and  writing, 
this  ambitious  ex-slave  left  his  farm  temporaril^r 
and  came  to  reside  at  the  mission  station.  He 
and  his  wife  were  welcome  additions  to  the  new 
and  growing  community,  for  they  had  acquired 
habits  of  industry  and  steadiness  from  their  life 
in  the  colony.  Moreover,  Aaron  Josephs  brought 
to  his  new  environment  a  knowledge  of  Christian 
teaching  which  prepared  him  for  leadership  in  the 
Pentecostal  experiences  which  were  to  follow. 

217 


THE    MOFFATS 


At  the  end  of  August,  1828,  Mr.  Hamilton,  who 
had  just  made  his  first  trip  to  the  coast  since  he 
joined  the  mission  in  1816,  returned  to  his  post  to 
find  events  taking  place  which  seemed  to  him 
nothing  short  of  miraculous.  The  temporary- 
chapel  which  his  hands  had  helped  to  build  could 
not  begin  to  hold  the  people  who  thronged  the 
services.  With  astonishing  promptness  came  an- 
swers to  the  questions  Moffat  asked  from  the 
catechism  he  had  translated.  In  place  of  stolid 
indifference,  the  people  turned  atte'ntive  faces, 
alert  with  interest,  toward  the  preacher.  Many 
times  the  missionary  caught  traces  of  tears  upon 
the  black  faces  before  him.  For  an  African 
woman  to  cry  was  nothing  unusual,  since  in  family 
and  tribal  calamities  the  woman's  part  was  to 
weep  and  wail,  the  man's  to  brood  and  plot  re- 
venge. But  now  the  scene  was  changed,  and  men 
as  well  as  women  shed  the  unaccustomed  tears  of 
penitence. 

Moffat  and  his  coworkers  were  well-nigh  pros- 
trated by  the  glory  of  this  day  of  awakening  for 
which  they  had  prayed  earnestly  for  seven  years. 
Ever  since  they  had  come  to  Bechuanaland  they 
had  preached  the  "Word  without  effect,  and  as  a 
218 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 


last  straw  of  discouragement  came  the  report  that 
the  London  Society  contemplated  closing  the  mis- 
sion because  it  had  failed  of  results.  But  the 
vindication  had  come  at  last  in  this  strange,  melt- 
ing experience  which  bowed  the  hearts  of  the 
people  before  God. 

About  this  time  Aaron  Josephs  came  forward 
and  asked  to  be  admitted  into  the  fellowship  of 
Christian  believers.  On  a  memorable  Sunday 
this  man  with  his  three  children  received  the  rite 
of  baptism,  together  with  a  little  white  child,  who 
was  christened  Robert  Moffat.  The  scene  had 
a  peculiar  attraction  for  the  black  people,  and 
sobs  and  cries  mingled  with  the  tones  of  the 
preacher.  With  characteristic  Scotch  caution 
Mr.  Hamilton  and  Mr.  Moffat  sought  to  restrain 
the  emotional  excitement,  but  in  vain.  Tears  and 
loud  crying  pervaded  the  crowded  room,  and  with 
all  the  interplay  of  feeling  there  stirred  and 
grew  the  consciousness  of  a  Presence,  infinitely 
appealing. 

From  this  hour  the  people^  gave  themselves 
unitedly  to  prayer  and  song.  In  many  a  village 
hut  they  met  to  pray,  and  when  no  one  was  present 
to  voice  their  petition  they  sang  the  three  hymns 

219 


THE    MOFFATS 


Moffat  had  translated  into  their  language.  Until 
late  in  the  evening  they  lingered  together,  and, 
before  morning  broke,  reassembled  to  begin  the 
day  with  worship. 

With  this  widespread  enthusiasm  came  a  spe- 
cial token  of  genuineness  altogether  practical  in 
form.  Three  men,  led  by  Aaron  Josephs,  a 
builder  and  thatcher  by  trade,  offered  their  ser- 
vices to  build  a  schoolhouse  which  should  serve  as 
place  of  worship  until  a  church  of  adequate  size 
could  be  erected.  Their  offer  was  wholly  volun- 
tary, as  no  one  had  so  much  as  hinted  its  desira- 
bility. With  the  plan  drawn  they  would  raise  the 
structure  entire,  save  for  doors  and  windows, 
which  to  them  were  unkno^vn  features  of  the  build- 
er's  art.  Only  too  thankfully  did  Mr.  Hamilton 
agree  to  supply  these  necessities,  and  forthwith 
the  work  was  begun.  It  soon  grew  to  be  a  com- 
munity enterprise  in  which  many  willing  hands 
helped,  w^omen  and  children  carrying  clay,  laths, 
and  materials  for  thatch.  In  the  month  of  May, 
1829,  the  building  was  completed,  the  same  en- 
thusiasm marking  its  finish  as  inspired  its  begin- 
ning. For  native  Africans,  lazy  and  shiftless  by 
nature  and  training,  to  undertake  and  complete  sc 
220 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 


extensive  a  building  entirely  of  their  own  accord 
proved  that  some  new  and  powerful  leaven  was 
at  work  in  their  lives. 

The  first  Sunday  in  July  marked  an  epoch  in 
the  Bechuana  missions.  On  that  day  six  native 
Christians,  both  men  and  women,  were  baptized 
and  received  into  church  membership.  Before 
calling  his  twelve  disciples,  the  Master  went  into 
a  mountain  apart  to  pray  for  insight  to  guide  his 
choice.  In  like  manner  the  Kuruman  mission- 
aries prayed  and  counseled  together  in  great 
earnestness  before  they  ventured  to  select  these 
first  Bechuana  converts  to  acknowledge  publicly 
their  allegiance  to  Jesus  Christ.  Careful  exam- 
ination revealed  a  simple  faith  in  Christ,  particu- 
larly in  his  atoning  death,  and  an  understanding 
remarkably  accurate  in  comparison  with  their 
former  ignorance. 

The  day  of  their  baptism  was  signalized  by  a 
large  gathering  of  visitors  at  Kuruman — Griquas 
on  a  hunting  expedition  and  traders  from  the  in- 
terior. Moved  by  a  common  impulse,  they  assem- 
bled in  the  new  building  where  the  baptismal  ser- 
vice and  the  sermon,  delivered  with  freedom  in  the 
Sechuana  language,  made  a  profound  impression. 

221 


THE    MOFFATS 


But  the  most  striking  incident  of  that  day's  cele- 
bration remains  to  be  told.  On  the  Friday  eve- 
ning before,  a  box  arrived  from  England,  bearing 
the  name  of  the  sender,  John  Greaves,  Esq.,  of 
Sheffield.  It  did  not  take  Mrs.  Moffat  long  to 
guess  the  contents  of  that  box  nor  to  remove  the 
shiny  communion  vessels  and  pulpit  candlesticks 
for  which  she  had  asked  two  years  before  when 
there  was  no  sign  that  they  would  ever  be  needed 
in  Bechuanaland.  The  box  had  been  twelve 
months  on  the  way  from  England  and  had  reached 
its  destination  just  two  days  before  the  first  ob- 
servance of  the  Lord's  Supper  in  the  Kuruman 
church!  "We  were  as  those  that  dreamed," 
wrote  Moffat  afterwards.  "The  hour  had  arrived 
on  which  the  whole  energies  of  our  souls  had  been 
intensely  fixed,  when  we  should  see  a  church,  how- 
ever small,  gathered  from  among  a  people  who  had 
so  long  boasted  that  neither  Jesus  nor  we,  his  ser- 
vants, should  ever  see  Bechuanas  w^orship  and 
confess  him  as  their  King." 

The  genuineness  of  the  Kuruman  revival  was 
put  to  a  still  more  practical  test  as  the  days  went 
by.  Women  and  girls,  in  motley  array,  gathered 
around  Mrs.  Moffat  to  learn  the  use  of  the  needle, 
222 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 


that  tiny  instniment  which  perpetually  eluded 
their  clumsy  fingers  accustomed  to  pickax  and  hoe. 
Hitherto  woman's  sphere  of  labor  had  been 
housebuilding  and  farming,  while  to  man  fell  the 
task  of  supplying  the  scanty  family  wardrobe. 
To  suggest  an  exchange  of  occupation  was  to 
provoke  noisy  laughter  from  women  and  men. 
Once  Mahuto,  the  chief's  wife,  remarked  half  in 
jest,  half  in  earnest,  that  she  wished  the  mission- 
ary would  give  the  husbands  medicine  to  make 
them  do  the  heavy  work  instead  of  the  wives.  But 
neither  Mahuto  nor  her  sister  women  dreamed 
that  the  day  would  come  when,  stirred  by  some 
potent  inner  impulse,  they  would  of  their  own 
free  will  seek  to  acquire  the  finer  arts  of  human 
living. 

Scarcity  of  material  was  the  only  drawback  to 
the  progress  of  the  sewing-school,  which  had  come 
naturally  into  existence.  The  nearest  market 
town  was  six  hundred  miles  away,  and  Kuruman 
was  off  the  regular  route  of  traders.  To  supply 
the  lack,  ornaments,  hitherto  highly  prized,  were 
converted  into  bullion  wherewith  to  purchase  skins 
of  animals.  These,  in  turn,  were  prepared  soft 
as  cloth  and  made  into  jackets,  trousers,  and 

223 


TEE    MOFFATS 


gowns.  Wlienever  a  trader  chanced  to  come  their 
way,  British  goods  were  bought  with  avidity. 

The  fashion  of  wearing  clothes  spread  like  a 
contagious  germ  among  men  as  well  as  women. 
For  a  man  to  appear  in  a  pair  of  trousers  was  an 
almost  certain  sign  that  he  was  about  to  join  the 
ranks  of  so-called  "inquirers."  To  abandon  the 
custom  of  painting  the  body  and  to  wash  with 
water  w^as  almost  equal  to  a  public  renunciation  of 
heathenism. 

Mrs.  Moffat,  the  only  European  woman  in  the 
place,  was  supposed  to  be  an  infallible  source  of 
wisdom  in  the  clothier's  art.  Men  and  women, 
young  and  old,  appealed  to  her  for  instruction. 
A  man  would  bring  prepared  skins  to  be  cut  into 
a  jacket;  another  would  request  a  pattern,  while 
a  third  would  exhibit  a  garment  sewed  upside 
down  and  inquire  innocently  why  it  did  not  fit. 

In  this  transition  period  many  ludicrous  sights 
met  the  missionaries'  eyes.  A  man  might  be  seen 
wearing  a  jacket  with  one  sleeve,  a  black  arm  pro- 
truding through  the  other  armhole,  the  inequality 
being  due  to  shortage  of  material.  Another  would 
proudly  don  a  duffel,  or  leather  jacket,  with  sleeves 
of  blue,  red,  or  yellow  cotton.  Joseph's  coat  of 
224 


TRE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 


many  colors  was  often  reproduced  in  the  costumes 
worn  that  year  at  Kuruman. 

From  clothing  and  cleanliness  the  reform  spread 
to  household  furnishings.  Chairs,  chests,  and 
tables  were  no  longer  regarded  as  doubtful  con- 
veniences, not  worth  the  labor  expended  upon 
their  production.  Candles  had  hitherto  been  con- 
sidered the  foolish  extravagance  of  Europeans, 
who  burned  the  fat  they  might  have  eaten  or  used 
as  lubricating  oil  for  their  bodies.  For  Africans 
it  had  been  pastime  enough,  when  the  cows  were 
milked  and  the  day's  work  was  done,  to  crouch 
over  the  smoldering  embers  by  whose  light  they 
could  see  sufficiently  to  eat  and  talk.  But  a  new 
interest  had  recently  come  into  their  lives,  a  fas- 
cinating facility  in  reading,  which  must  be  utilized 
in  the  leisure  hours  of  evening.  The  flickering 
flame  of  a  wood  fire  hardly  sufficed  to  light  the 
printed  page,  and  presently  candle  molds,  tallow, 
and  rags  for  wicks  were  scrupulously  hoarded. 
On  the  walls  of  native  huts  hung  bunches  of  home- 
made candles,  a  sight  which  gave  the  missionaries 
a  thrill  of  satisfaction,  for  were  they  not  a  symbol 
of  the  light  which  was  irradiating  the  darkened 
minds  of  their  owners? 

225 


THE    MOFFAT S 


Before  the  Moffats  had  recovered  from  the 
first  shock  of  joy  over  the  Bechuaiia  converts,  a 
letter  from  England  brought  impressive  tidings. 
At  the  very  time  when  the  people  at  Kuruman 
were  responding  to  the  gospel  message,  Christians 
in  England  were  engaged  in  especially  earnest 
prayer  on  their  behalf.  ' '  What  an  encouragement 
to  persevere  in  that  important  part  of  Christian 
duty,"  said  Mary  Moffat, 

During  this  same  eventful  year  there  came  to 
Kuruman  two  men  from  a  distant  tribe  who 
were  the  harbingers  of  an  interesting  future  in 
which  Moffat  was  to  play  a  leading  part.  They 
had  come  from  the  great  chief,  Mosilikatse,  king 
of  the  Matabele,  a  ruler  strong  and  despotic,  whose 
subjects  bowed  in  fawning  flattery  and  whose  ene- 
mies cringed  in  terror.  At  his  behest  these  two 
emissaries  had  journeyed  to  Kuruman  to  study 
the  character  and  customs  of  the  white  people  of 
whom  they  had  heard  divers  and  strange  accounts. 

In  demeanor  the  visitors  bore  themselves  with 
a  dignity  and  politeness  which  bespoke  their  high 
rank  in  a  tribe  of  superior  intelligence.  Kespect- 
ful  attention  was  given  to  every  reform  due  to  the 
white  man's  ingenuity.  The  strongly  built 
226 


THE  DEE  AM  COME  TRUE 


houses,  garden  walls,  water  ditches,  and  smith's 
forge  produced  an  impression  which  was  exhib- 
ited not  by  wild  gestures,  the  African  language  of 
surprise,  but  by  serious  comment  and  inquiry. 
"You  are  men;  we  are  children,"  said  one  with 
gravity.  "Mosilikatse  must  be  taught  these 
things,"  confirmed  the  other. 

Of  the  many  novel  sights  at  Kuruman  none 
seemed  to  the  visitors  quite  so  unaccountable  as 
the  chapel  services.  There  for  the  first  time  they 
saw  black  men  meet  together  in  orderly  and  quiet 
behavior;  they  saw  children  sitting  still  and 
mothers  hushing  their  babies  or  quietly  retiring 
if  their  cries  could  not  be  subdued.  Such  decorum 
could  scarcely  be  comprehended,  for  among  native 
tribes  the  public  assembly  was  always  inter- 
spersed with  war-song,  dance,  and  frenzied  mo- 
tion. The  Christian  hymns  which  the  Bechuanas 
sang  in  their  own  language  made  a  strange  appeal 
to  people  whose  only  conception  of  music  was  the 
impassioned  outpouring  of  hatred  and  revenge. 

When  the  visit  neared  its  end,  keen  apprehen- 
sion was  felt  for  the  safe  return  of  the  Matabele. 
Rumors  were  whispered  that  the  Bechuana  tribes 
through  whose   territory  they  must  pass  were 

227 


THE    MOFFATS 


plotting  to  trap  and  kill  them.  The  consequences 
of  such  a  deed  were  frightful  to  contemplate,  for 
Mosilikatse  would  take  swift  and  thorough  re- 
venge upon  the  tribe  that  dared  to  murder  his 
ambassadors.  What  plan  could  be  devised  for 
their  protection?  The  Moffats  and  Mr.  Hamilton 
were  at  their  wits'  end  to  solve  the  difficulty  and 
met  again  and  again  for  counsel  and  prayer.  At 
length  an  expediency  was  hit  upon  which  removed 
at  once  the  fears  of  the  travelers.  Their  eyes 
fairly  gleamed  with  delight  at  the  proposal.  Mof- 
fat would  go  himself  as  pledge  of  their  safety,  as 
far  as  the  Bahurutse  territory,  from  which  they 
could  journey  in  safety  to  their  own  domain. 

A  number  of  men  volunteered  to  accompany  the 
expedition,  which  some  deemed  highly  dangerous. 
At  the  time  of  departure  the  people  brought  pres- 
ents to  speed  their  parting  guests  and  to  send  to 
Mosilikatse,  whose  name,  before  the  gospel  of 
good-w^ill  had  tamed  their  tribal  hatred,  would 
have  been  pronounced  with  a  curse. 

Under  circumstances  altogether  unique  Moffat 
experienced  another  of  those  African  journeys, 
of  which  repetition  could  never  rob  the  adventure 
nor  the  high-pitched  peril.  Every  long  trip  in 
238 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 


his  ox-cart  meant  to  the  missionary  a  new  and 
exciting  chapter  to  add  to  his  volume  of  dramatic 
events.  But  of  all  his  accumulated  adventures 
none  quite  surpassed  in  picturesqueness  and  sig- 
nificance the  journey  to  Mosilikatse,  *'the  Na- 
poleon of  the  desert,"  as  Moffat  learned  to  call 
him. 

The  original  plan  was  for  the  escort  to  go  as 
far  as  Mosega,  the  Bahurutse  town,  when  the 
danger  zone  would  be  passed.  But  had  they 
turned  back  at  this  point,  as  they  expected,  this 
particular  story  with  its  sequel  would  never  have 
been  told.  At  Mosega  the  Matabele  raised  a 
serious  barrier  to  Mr.  Moffat's  return.  Mosili- 
katse, they  declared,  would  surely  kill  them  if 
they  permitted  the  white  man  to  go  back  with- 
out entering  the  king's  presence.  Reluctantly 
Moffat  consented  to  go  as  far  as  the  cattle  out- 
posts of  the  Matabele,  one  hundred  miles  beyond. 
Beyond  Mosega  the  landscape  became  exceed- 
ingly beautiful,  rich  in  vegetation  and  traversed 
by  streams  flowing  eastward  to  the  Indian  Ocean. 
It  was  a  paradise  for  wild  beasts  alone,  as  the 
once  dense  population  had  been  wiped  out  by  on- 
slaughts of  the  Mantatees  and  Matabele.     Now 

229 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


and  then  a  solitary  inhabitant  joined  the  caravan, 
seeking  a  bit  of  food  to  appease  his  hunger. 

As  they  approached  the  first  cattle  outpost, 
Moffat  espied  a  large  and  shapely  tree  at  the 
entrance  of  a  wooded  ravine,  between  whose 
branches  protruded  telltale  peaks  of  thatch. 
Could  it  be  one  of  those  tree  villages  of  which  he 
had  heard?  Hastening  to  the  spot  he  found  his 
surmise  correct,  for  the  big  tree  actually  fur- 
nished homes  for  several  families  of  Bajone,  rem- 
nants of  the  tribe  which  once  inhabited  this  fer- 
tile land.  With  a  boy's  love  of  adventure  which 
never  forsook  this  grown-up  missionary,  he 
promptly  climbed  the  notched  trunk  to  the  very 
top.  There  he  entered  a  hut,  sat  down,  and  ate 
powdered  locusts,  which  his  hostess  gladly  pro- 
vided. On  his  way  down  he  counted  seventeen 
cone-shaped  huts,  built  upon  oblong  scaffolds 
seven  feet  wide,  with  a  small  space  in  front  for 
entrance. 

When  they  returned  to  the  wagons,  the  old 
dilemma  was  renewed.  Mr.  Moffat  pleaded  his 
pressing  duties  at  Kuruman,  and  the  fulfilment 
of  his  promise  to  the  Matabele,  since,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  country,  he  had  placed  them  **  behind 
230 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 


shields  of  their  nation."  For  answer,  one  of  the 
men  laid  his  right  hand  upon  the  missionary's 
shoulder  and  the  left  upon  his  own  breast,  say- 
ing, "Father,  you  have  been  our  guardian.  We 
are  yours;  you  love  us,  and  will  you  leave  us? 
Yonder  dwells  the  great  Mosilikatse,  and  how 
shall  we  approach  his  presence  if  you  are  not  with 
us?  When  we  shall  have  told  our  news,  he  will 
ask  why  our  conduct  gave  you  pain  to  cause  your 
return;  and,  before  the  sun  descend  on  the  day 
we  see  his  face,  we  shall  be  ordered  out  for  exe- 
cution because  you  are  not."  It  was  a  dramatic 
scene;  the  two  warrior-like  figures  standing  as 
suppliants,  the  missionary  bowed  in  deep  per- 
plexity, and  the  Kuruman  attendants  looking  on 
as  if  the  destinies  of  an  empire  hung  in  the  bal- 
ance. With  irrepressible  emotion  they  heard  the 
decision, — "We  must  go  on." 

It  was  a  day  never  to  be  forgotten  when  Mr. 
Moffat  with  two  attendants  left  the  ox-carts  to 
follow  by  a  more  circuitous  route,  and  mounted 
his  horse  to  go  by  the  direct  road  into  Mosili- 
katse's  town.  Straight  into  the  center  of  the  fold 
they  rode,  a  fold  large  enough  to  hold  ten  thou- 
sand head  of  cattle,  but  now  encircled  by  eight 

231 


THE    MOFFATS 


hundred  warriors  in  full  dress  uniform.  At  the 
signal  to  dismount,  the  riders  obeyed,  though 
keeping  the  bridles  in  their  hands.  At  that  mo- 
ment two  hundred  warriors  who  had  been  con- 
cealed at  the  entrance  rushed  into  the  circle,  yell- 
ing and  brandishing  monstrous  shields  which 
reached  to  their  chins.  The  horses  nearly  broke 
loose  at  this  demonstration,  but  the  warriors 
promptly  fell  into  rank  with  the  despatch  of 
trained  soldiers.  Motionless  as  statues  they 
stood,  with  only  their  white  teeth  gleaming  and 
their  plumes  waving.  A  profound  silence  fell 
upon  the  scene,  broken  only  by  the  breathing  of 
the  horses.  Then  the  war-song  broke  forth  in  all 
its  primitive  glory,  rhythmic  and  uproarious,  vivi- 
fied by  imitations  of  dying  groans  and  victors' 
yells.  Another  pause  ensued  when  from  behind 
the  lines  marched  the  monarch  himself,  followed 
by  a  retinue  of  attendants  bearing  baskets  and 
bowls  of  food.  Having  been  taught  the  European 
mode  of  salutation,  he  extended  his  hand  for  a 
clumsy  but  well-meaning  shake.  Turning  politely 
to  the  food,  which  had  been  placed  at  the  visitors ' 
feet,  he  bade  them  partake. 

At  this  juncture  the  wagons  were   seen  ap- 
232 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 


proaching,  and  Mosilikatse  grasped  Moffat's  arm 
to  escort  him  to  the  place  of  encampment.  * '  The 
land  is  before  you,"  he  graciously  affirmed;  "you 
must  sleep  where  you  please."  When  the  "mov- 
ing houses,"  as  the  wagons  were  called,  came 
nearer,  Mosilikatse  shrank  back  in  fear  at  the  un- 
accustomed sight.  Were  they  living  creatures 
of  some  mammoth  species  he  had  never  seen? 
Grasping  Moffat  more  firmly,  he  advanced  with 
caution  to  investigate.  When  the  mechanism  of 
the  wagon  had  been  explained,  he  returned  to  the 
fold,  where  his  warriors  greeted  him  with  noisy 
acclamation. 

Wherever  Mosilikatse  went,  he  was  attended  by 
fawning  minions  who  sang  his  praises.  "Great 
King,  King  of  Heaven,  the  Elephant,  the  Lion's 
Paw,"  were  some  of  the  fantastic  titles  applied 
to  the  monarch.  His  power  could  hurl  mountains 
from  their  foundation,  boasted  his  followers.  His 
smile  was  life  and  his  frown  death,  they  averred 
with  fatal  truthfulness. 

The  first  Saturday  evening  that  Moffat  spent 
in  this  strangest  of  strange  lands,  he  was  ap- 
proached by  King  Mosilikatse,  who  was  bent  on 
conversation.      Placing  his  hand  upon  the  mis- 

233 


THE    MOFFATS 


sionary's  shoulder,  he  addressed  him  in  words 
like  these:  " Machobane, — I  call  you  such  because 
you  have  been  my  father — you  have  made  my 
heart  as  white  as  milk.  I  cease  not  to  wonder  at 
the  love  of  a  stranger.  You  never  saw  me  be- 
fore, but  you  love  me  more  than  my  own  people. 
You  fed  me  when  I  was  hungry,  you  clothed  me 
when  I  was  naked,  and,"  raising  the  missionary's 
arm,  ''that  arm  shielded  me  from  my  enemies." 
"Whereupon  Moffat  replied,  asking  when  he  had 
seen  him  naked  or  hungry  or  imperiled!  Point- 
ing to  the  two  men  whom  Moffat  had  befriended, 
he  said:  ''These  are  great  men;  Umbate  is  my 
right  hand.  When  I  sent  them  from  my  presence 
to  see  the  land  of  the  white  man,  I  sent  my  ears, 
my  eyes,  my  mouth.  What  they  heard,  I  heard ; 
what  they  saw,  I  saw,  and  what  they  said,  it  was 
Mosilikatse  who  said  it.  You  fed  them  and  clothed 
them,  and,  when  they  were  to  be  slain,  you  were 
their  shield.  You  did  it  unto  me.  You  did  it  unto 
Mosilikatse,  son  of  Machobane." 

It  was  the  "love  of  a  stranger"  which  drew  the 
heathen  king  unto  the  Christian  missionary  with 
devotion  which  recalled  Afrikaner,  the  outlaw 
chieftain.  But,  unlike  Afrikaner,  Mosilikatse  gave 
234 


THE  BEE  AM  COME  TRUE 


but  vagrant  heed  to  the  message  the  missionary- 
tried  repeatedly  to  make  him  understand.  By 
way  of  politeness  he  would  listen  to  the  strange 
words  of  his  guest  until  his  attention  was  diverted 
by  droves  of  sleek  cattle  approaching  the  town,, 
to  him  the  supreme  concern  of  life. 

It  was  ten  days  before  Moffat  could  escape  the 
solicitations  of  his  host  and  start  on  the  home- 
ward journey.  So  manifest  was  the  king's  affec- 
tion for  his  guest  that  his  people  declared  he  must 
have  received  a  love-potion  from  the  hands  of  the 
white  man.  "Ra-Mary,"  said  he,  as  they  stood 
by  the  ox- wagons,  "your  visit  to  me  seems  like 
a  dream;  my  heart  will  follow  you.  Go  in  peace 
to  Kuruman,  and  when  you  come  again,  bring 
Ma-Mary  with  you.  Let  the  road  to  Kuruman 
forever  remain  open."  Then,  as  the  wagons 
moved  away,  the  king  and  his  men  sat  on  the 
grass  chanting  a  kind  of  dirge.  For  some  dis- 
tance Moffat  walked  behind  the  ox-carts  musing 
upon  the  strange  experience  which  had  come 
to  him  unsought,  wondering  what  it  might  sig- 
nify for  the  extension  of  the  mission  he  loved. 

As  they  passed  beyond  the  last  cattle  outpost, 
the  Matabele  were  left  further  and  further  be- 

235 


THE    MOFFAT S 


hind,  as  the  travelers  drew  daily  nearer  the  goal 
of  their  journey  and  their  heart's  desire,  Kuru- 
man.  At  last  the  little  settlement  came  into 
view,  the  willow  trees,  the  huts  along  the  edge  of 
the  valley,  the  newly  built  schoolhouse,  and  finally 
Moffat's  owTi  house  and,  yes,  Mary  and  the  chil- 
dren in  the  doorway  ''watching  for  father." 

It  was  now  the  new  year,  for  two  months  had 
elapsed  since  Moffat  went  away  in  November. 
The  year  opened  with  promise,  for  interest  had 
steadily  deepened,  and  the  converts  were  prov- 
ing their  steadfastness  by  many  a  practical  test. 
Garden  products  were  multiplied  beyond  the  tra- 
ditional watermelon,  beans,  and  pumpkins  of 
their  forefathers  to  include  maize,  barley,  peas, 
carrots,  and  potatoes.  New  watercourses  were 
built  in  emulation  of  the  missionaries,  and  some 
enterprising  folk  planted  fruit  trees.  Plows,  har- 
rows, and  spades  were  no  longer  spurned  as  the 
implements  of  degrading  toil,  but  welcomed  as 
the  very  necessities  of  existence.  Public  senti- 
ment had  undergone  a  change  in  Bechuanaland 
since  the  coming  of  the  missionaries. 

Early  in  the  year  1830,  foundations  were  laid 
for  the  new  church,  which  was  to  be  a  substantial 
236 


THE  DREAM  COME  TRUE 


structure  of  blue  limestone,  the  largest  building 
north  of  the  Orange  River.  By  the  light  of  their 
tallow  candles  the  people  had  made  such  rapid 
progress  in  reading  that  Moffat  was  spurred  to 
finish  and  publish  his  translation  of  the  Gospel 
of  Luke. 

There  was  a  turn  in  the  tide  of  mission  affairs 
in  Bechuanaland,  and  who  could  measure  the 
force  of  its  incoming!  Would  it  reach  perchance 
to  Mosilikatse,  peerless  king  of  the  desert  tribes? 


237 


CHAPTER  XV 

''THE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND 
VILLAGES" 

He  Cometh  unto  you  with  a  tale  which  holdeth  children  from 
play  and  old  men  from  the  chimney  corner. 

— Sir  Philip  Sidney 


"HE   WAS 
SPIBITED 
AWAY    TO 
AUDFENCE 
HALLS   TO 
ADDRESS 
GREAT 
THRONGS 
OF   PEOPLE.' 


XV 

*^THE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND 
VILLAGES" 


N  the  harbor  at  Cape  Town,  where  the 
mountains  cast  freakish  shadows  upon 
the  sea,  a  British  ship  was  receiving 
her  cargo  and  her  passengers  for  the 
homeward  voyage.  A  small  and  ill- 
equipped  craft  she  was,  battered  and 
buffeted  by  long  trips  at  sea.  On  this  passage 
she  had  come  all  the  way  from  China,  carrying 
soldiers  who  had  served  their  time  in  the  Opium 
War.  She  was  now  provisioned  and  ready  for 
the  voyage  of  three  months  in  the  Atlantic,  when 
she  would  measure  the  length  of  an  entire  con- 
tinent and  two  thirds  of  another  before  reaching 
her  English  haven.  In  the  old  days  of  sailing 
vessels  and  roundabout  routes  from  continent  to 
continent,  every  journey  meant  a  long  period  of 
travel. 

Among  the  passengers  who  gathered  on  deck 
for  the  last  farewells  was  an  English  family  well 
known  to  the  reader,  and  likewise  to  the  residents 

241 


THE    MOFFATS 


of  South  Africa,  Robert  Moffat  with  his  wife  and 
six  bonny  children.  Moffat  looked  as  tall  and 
straight  as  had  the  young  man  who  landed  in 
Cape  To^^^l  twenty-two  years  before,  more  sun- 
burnt and  hardy,  perhaps,  with  the  added  look  of 
an  explorer  and  a  mystic  combined.  Mrs.  Mof- 
fat's face  beamed  with  kindliness  and  human  in- 
terest, while  her  blue  eyes  spoke  of  hardihood  and 
purpose  to  match  those  of  her  husband.  There 
were  three  girls  of  varying  heights  and  ages,  and 
three  lively  boys,  beginning  with  Robert,  Junior, 
a  lad  of  twelve.  The  two  youngest,  Jim  and  Jack, 
prattled  incessantly,  firing  a  continuous  volley  of 
questions  at  their  long-suffering  elders.  It  was 
a  singularly  wide-awake  family,  with  that  quick- 
ness of  perception  which  a  frontier  life  begets 
and  that  strong  attachment  to  one  another  which 
isolation  tends  to  develop.  Already  the  thought 
of  England  was  quickening  the  heart-beats  of  the 
grown  folks  who  had  been  so  long  exiled  from 
their  native  land,  while  the  boys  and  girls,  who 
knew  the  home  country  in  fancy  alone,  were  pre- 
pared for  a  grand  adventure  surpassing  all  the 
ox-carts,  lions,  and  wild  tribes  they  had  ever  en- 
countered. 
242 


"  THE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND  VILLAGES " 

Since  that  first  landing  in  the  year  1817  Robert 
Moffat  had  traveled  thousands  of  miles  by  ox- 
cart and  on  horseback,  but  not  until  this  day  in 
March,  1839,  had  he  ventured  upon  the  home  trail 
over  seas  to  England.  Mary  Moffat  was  likewise 
a  seasoned  traveler,  for  in  the  last  ten  years  alone 
she  had  made  five  trips  from  Kuruman  to  the 
Cape,  more  than  six  thousand  miles  in  an  African 
ox-cart  at  the  rate  of  fifteen  miles  a  day!  The 
three  eldest  children,  Mary,  Ann,  and  Robert,  had 
been  sent  to  school  in  the  Colony,  and  every  two 
or  three  years  their  mother  trekked  down  from 
Bechuanaland  to  attend  to  their  needs.  When  the 
ox-cart  trailed  into  Cape  Town  and  she  caught 
sight  of  Table  Mountain  and  the  shiny  sea,  Mary 
Moffat  lived  again  that  exciting  day  in  December, 
1819,  when  she  came,  a  lonely  girl,  to  join  her 
lover  in  South  Africa.  On  this  day,  twenty  years 
later,  husband  and  wife  stood  together  on  the  deck 
of  the  ship  which  was  to  bear  them  again  to  those 
familiar  scenes  where  the  unquenchable  romance 
of  their  lives  began. 

It  was  a  singular  predicament  which  had  con- 
strained the  Moffats  to  embark  for  England  at 
this   particularly  inopportune   time.     They  had 

243 


TEE   MOFFAT S 


come  down  to  Cape  Town  on  imperative  business ; 
to  obtain  medical  attention,  to  take  the  two  girls 
home  from  school,  and  to  deliver  to  the  printer 
the  complete  manuscript  of  the  New  Testament 
which  Moffat  had  translated  into  Sechuana  (the 
language  of  the  Bechuanas).  The  Kuruman  mis- 
sion had  a  printing-press,  but  it  was  not  adequate 
for  so  large  an  output.  Neither  was  Cape  Town 
better  equipped,  for  not  an  office  in  the  place  could 
undertake  the  amount  of  printing  required.  It 
became  evident  that  the  manuscript  would  have 
to  be  published  in  England  and  that  the  Moffats 
would  need  to  go  themselves  to  interpret  the  un- 
known hieroglyphics.  Accordingly  they  took  pas- 
sage on  the  only  ship  available,  although  her 
quarters  were  cramped,  and  her  date  of  sailing 
inconvenient. 

Scarcely  had  the  ship  left  her  moorings  before 
trouble  came  to  the  Moffat  family.  Even  while 
crossing  Table  Bay  the  mother's  crucial  hour  ar- 
rived, and  she  gave  birth  to  a  baby  girl.  A  few 
hours  later,  and  the  ship  put  to  sea  in  a  raging 
tempest  of  wind  and  waves !  In  the  general  dis- 
tress which  prevailed,  Mrs.  Moffat,  who  lay  help- 
less in  her  berth,  perceived  that  Jim,  the  six-year- 
244 


''THE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND  VILLAGES" 

old  boy,  was  in  serious  plight.  He  had  not  fully- 
recovered  from  measles,  contracted  in  Cape 
Town,  and  another  disease,  more  critical,  had  fol- 
lowed in  its  train.  No  one  was  able  to  nurse  the 
sick  boy,  for  seasickness  had  prostrated  nearly 
every  one  on  board.  In  her  extremity,  Mrs. 
Moffat  asked  to  have  the  child  laid  by  her  side, 
and  there,  while  the  wind  howled  and  the  ship 
tossed,  the  little  fellow  lay  upon  his  mother's  arm 
talking  contentedly  of  the  angels  who  should  bear 
the  souls  of  children  to  their  heavenly  home. 
''Oh,  that  will  be  joyful,"  babbled  the  childish 
lips,  while  his  eyes  closed  dreamily,  and  he 
slipped  away  to  join  the  children  at  play  in  the 
Father's  house. 

Grief  for  the  little  lad  mingled  with  an  old  grief 
revived  in  Mary  Moffat's  heart  by  the  expecta- 
tion of  returning  to  her  girlhood  home.  Far  back 
in  the  years  and  far  back  also  in  the  interior  of 
Africa  a  letter  had  come  from  England  with  the 
dreaded  tidings  that  Mrs.  Smith,  Mary's  mother, 
had  died.  Six  years  from  the  time  that  her  daugh- 
ter left  the  stone  house  in  Dukinfield,  the  mother 
went  out  on  the  journey  from  which  there  is  no 
return.  With  added  tenderness  Mrs.  Moffat  gath- 

245 


THE   MOFFAT S 


ered  her  little  brood  about  her  in  the  ship's  cabin 
and  told  them  anew  of  the  grandparents  they 
were  soon  to  see.  In  the  family  circle  in  Scot- 
land there  was  likewise  a  vacant  place,  for  Rob- 
ert's brother,  Alexander,  with  whom  he  used  to 
trudge  to  school  in  Falkirk,  had  been  invalided 
and  sent  home  from  the  East  to  die  a  soldier's 
death.  Twenty  years  had  made  another  gap  in 
the  ranks,  for  the  name  of  the  Reverend  William 
Roby  could  no  longer  be  posted  on  roadside  bul- 
letins to  capture  the  gaze  of  dreaming  boys.  He 
too  had  died  before  his  protege  returned  from 
Africa  to  tell  the  thrilling  story  of  the  work  he 
had  done. 

A  touch  of  strangeness  fell  upon  Robert  and 
Mary  as  their  ship  glided  into  the  harbor  at 
Cowes  and  cast  anchor  to  await  orders  from  Lon- 
don, after  the  leisurely  custom  of  olden  times. 
Were  they  coming  home  or  had  they  left  home 
far,  far  behind?  Was  it  the  soft  green  shores  of 
England  or  the  rugged  coastline  of  South  Africa 
which  betokened  that  magic  spot  called  home? 

From  the  irksome  life  on  shipboard  Mrs. 
Moffat  and  the  children  hastened  eagerly  on 
shore,  there  to  be  welcomed  by  the  very  friends 
246 


''THE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND  VILLAGES" 

in  whose  hospitable  home  Mary  Smith  had  been 
a  guest  twenty  years  before.  MotTat  lingered  on 
the  ship,  ostensibly  to  attend  to  the  luggage  and 
write  letters,  but  in  reality  overcome  by  shyness  at 
the  thought  of  entering  again  the  life  and  scenes  to 
which  he  had  become  a  stranger.  Little  did  the 
half-homesick  missionary  suspect  the  tremendous 
welcome  which  was  awaiting  him  in  his  unfamiliar 
native  land. 

In  a  few  days  the  ship  was  ordered  to  London 
and  was  towed  by  a  steam  tug  up  the  Thames,  a 
novel  experience  for  father  and  mother  as  well 
as  for  Jack  and  Robert  and  all  the  rest  of  the 
South  African  family.  Scarcely  had  the  mission- 
ary escaped  the  tribulations  of  the  custom-house 
when  the  surprise  of  his  life  began.  He  was 
spirited  away  to  audience  halls  to  address  great 
throngs  of  people  who  assembled  at  the  mere 
magic  of  the  name  Eobert  Moffat.  There  could 
not  have  been  a  more  opportune  time  for  him  to 
come  home,  for  Christian  England  had  been 
stirred  as  never  before,  and  perhaps  never  since, 
over  the  needs  of  the  world  for  Jesus  Christ. 
Missionaries  from  various  quarters  of  the  globe 
had  in  recent  years  returned  to  Britain,  among 

247 


THE   MOFFAT S 


them  John  Williams,  whose  visit  was  soon  to  be 
made  more  memorable  by  the  news  of  his  martyr 
death  at  Erromanga.  Robert  Moffat  was  another 
of  those  far-flung  pioneers  whose  tales  literally 
held  ''children  from  play  and  old  men  from  the 
chimney  corner." 

With  all  the  urgency  of  a  political  campaign  the 
missionary  was  hurried  from  town  to  town,  trav- 
eling by  coach,  as  railroads  were  but  few,  on  a 
speaking  tour  which  to  his  listeners  was  a  never- 
to-be-forgotten  experience.  In  Scotland  the  chil- 
dren dated  their  childish  happenings  from  the 
time  Moffat  spoke  to  them.  In  the  north  of  Eng- 
land he  held  an  audience  of  boys  and  girls  in  rapt 
attention  for  the  space  of  an  hour  and  a  half. 
Never  was  there  such  a  story-teller,  and  never 
were  there  such  stories  to  tell!  His  grown-up 
audiences  came  equally  under  the  witchery  of  his 
narrative  and  more  profoundly  under  the  sover- 
eignty of  his  spirit.  It  would  be  difficult,  indeed, 
to  determine  in  which  place  Robert  Moffat's  life 
counted  for  more,  in  the  foreign  country  where 
he  had  spent  his  manhood  or  in  the  homeland 
where  his  deeds  of  valor,  quickened  by  his  pres- 
ence, stirred  the  popular  conscience  and  raised 
248 


"  THE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND  VILLAGES " 

the  tone  of  living.  Many  young  men  and  women 
were  led  by  his  appeal  to  accept  Christ  and  to 
give  their  lives  in  definite  Christian  service  at 
home  and  abroad.  Among  them  was  a  young 
Scotch  preacher,  named  William  Ross,  who  went, 
not  long  after,  to  the  Moffats'  own  mission  in 
Bechuanaland. 

It  was  Moffat's  influence  that  constrained 
another  Scotchman  to  give  his  life  to  Africa,  a 
young  doctor  and  scientist  who  was  destined  to 
become  the  peerless  missionary  of  all  time.  It 
was  in  a  boarding-house  in  Aldersgate  Street, 
London,  that  Robert  Moffat  became  acquainted 
with  David  Livingstone.  The  young  man  had  fin- 
ished his  theological  and  medical  studies  and  was 
waiting  for  the  Opium  War  to  end,  that  he  might 
go  as  a  medical  missionary  to  China.  Meantime 
there  came  into  his  life  that  clear-cut,  indomitable 
personality  who  had  braved  the  wilds  of  Africa 
and  wrought  civilization  out  of  savagery.  Every 
time  Robert  Moffat  addressed  a  public  assembly, 
David  Livingstone  was  there  to  hear.  Gradually 
he  began  to  waylay  the  older  man  with  one  ques- 
tion after  another,  until  finally  he  ventured  upon 
the  crucial  inquiry  toward  which  all  his  interest 

249 


THE    MOFFAT S 


had  been  tending.  Would  he  do,  did  Mr.  Moffat 
think,  as  a  missionary  for  Africa?  ''Yes,"  came 
the  answer  in  no  uncertain  tones,  "particularly 
if  you  will  not  go  to  an  old  station  but  will  push 
on  into  unoccupied  fields."  Neither  man  realized 
the  prophecy  contained  in  those  words  of  chal- 
lenge. "In  the  north,"  continued  the  missionary, 
his  eyes  blazing  with  the  vividness  of  recollection, 
"I  have  seen  in  the  morning  sun  the  smoke  of  a 
thousand  villages  w^here  no  missionary  has  ever 
been."  "The  smoke  of  a  thousand  villages!" 
David  Livingstone  brooded  thoughtfully  over  the 
words.  At  last,  with  characteristic  directness,  he 
said,  "Wliat  is  the  use  of  my  waiting  here  for  the 
end  of  this  abominable  Opium  War?  I  will  go  at 
once  to  Africa." 

And  to  Africa  he  went  at  the  end  of  the  year 
1840,  in  company  with  William  Ross,  the  young 
minister  from  Scotland.  Now  Mr.  Ross  had 
taken  unto  himself  a  wife  to  share  the  vicissitudes 
of  his  lot,  but  Dr.  Livingstone  was  firmly  resolved 
upon  a  bachelor  career,  despite  the  motherly  ad- 
vice of  Mrs.  Moffat.  He  was  fixed  in  his  belief 
that  an  unmarried  man  could  do  better  service  in 
Africa,  but  Mrs.  Moffat  knew  otherwise,  for  had 
250 


"THE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND  VILLAGES'^ 

not  her  own  Robert  suffered  unnecessary  hard- 
ship of  body  and  mind  as  a  lonely  bachelor  in 
Afrikaner's  kraal?  David  Livingstone  was  des- 
tined to  change  his  mind  not  long  hence  in  those 
halcyon  days  of  reunion  at  Kuruman. 

Meanwhile  the  prolonged  stay  in  England 
brought  no  holiday  to  the  Moffat  family,  but 
rather  a  work-day  as  strenuous  as  the  Bechuana 
mission  itself.  ' '  Long  as  our  visit  to  England  is, ' ' 
wrote  Mrs.  Moffat  to  Mr.  Hamilton  at  Kuruman, 
'4t  is  a  state  of  constant  excitement,  bustle,  and 
anxiety.  I  long  for  my  o\^m  home.  I  long  to  see 
the  spot  again  where  we  have  so  long  toiled  and 
suffered,  for  though  loaded  with  the  kindness  of 
friends  and  welcome  .everywhere,  still  home  is 
homely  (homelike)." 

When  the  Moffats  arrived  in  England  in  the 
summer  of  1839,  they  had  expected  to  rush  the 
printing  through  and  slip  away  to  Africa  before 
winter.  But  alas  for  the  frailty  of  human 
expectations!  The  English  public  clamored 
imperiously  for  Moffat's  presence  on  the  plat- 
form, and  after  he  had  spoken  in  almost  every 
town  in  the  kingdom,  they  clamored  for  a 
book  in  which  they  could  read  the  story  of  his 

251 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


exploits  after  he  himself  had  gone  from  their 
hearing.  Between  speaking  engagements  he 
read  proof  sheets  of  the  New  Testament  and 
translated  into  Sechuana  the  entire  Book  of 
Psalms,  working  sometimes  until  late  in  the  night 
and  arising  early  next  day  to  set  forth  upon  a 
round  of  meetings.  When  David  Livingstone  and 
William  Ross  sailed  for  Africa,  they  carried  five 
hundred  copies  of  the  newly  printed  New  Testa- 
ment. A  few  months  later,  and  five  times  that 
number  were  sent  to  Kuruman,  each  volume 
containing  the  New  Testament  and  Psalms  in 
Sechuana. 

In  the  spring  of  1842  another  manuscript  was 
finished  and  published  under  the  title,  Labors  and 
Scenes  in  South  Africa,  a  closely  written  narra- 
tive, rich  in  anecdote  and  ethnic  research.  Scarcely 
had  the  last  proof  sheets  left  the  writer's  hand  be- 
fore he  was  swept  again  into  a  torrent  of  public 
meetings  which  continued  until  the  departure  for 
Africa  the  next  January.  For  the  last  two  months 
enthusiasm  was  sustained  at  a  high  pitch.  In 
Edinburgh  clergymen  and  leading  men  assembled 
to  present  a  set  of  the  EncyclopcEdia  Britannica 
to  the  Reverend  Mr.  Moffat,  "as  an  expression  of 
252 


"  TEE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND  VILLAGES " 

ajffectionate  regard  from  friends  of  different 
Christian  denominations."  *'Your  visit  to  us  we 
can  never  forget,"  said  the  chairman  in  his  presen- 
tation speech.  ''The  time  when  you  spoke  to  us 
will  be  as  a  sunny  spot  on  the  dusty  and  troubled 
road  along  which  we  have  to  journey.  We  have 
reaped  a  real  and  pure  pleasure  from  the  pictures 
you  have  given  us  of  missionary  life — your  ro- 
mantic adventures,  your  hairbreadth  escapes, 
your  bold  exertions,  your  surprising  successes. 
You  have  opened  before  us  a  new  page  of  human 
society  and  character." 

From  Edinburgh  he  was  hurried  on  to  New- 
castle, there  to  receive  a  set  of  scientific  instru- 
ments for  use  in  revealing  the  wonders  of  natural 
law  to  the  natives  of  South  Africa.  Before  he 
left  Scotland  there  was  another  flying  visit  to  In- 
verkeithing,  where  a  proud  and  wistful  mother 
parted  for  the  last  time  with  her  famous  son. 
Then  down  to  Manchester,  the  city  where  his  boy- 
ish battles  for  love  and  loyalty  had  been  fought 
and  won,  where,  likewise,  Mary  Smith  had  faced 
the  peculiar  problems  of  her  girlhood  life !  How 
strange  it  seemed  for  those  two  to  trace  again  the 
old,  familiar  ways  after  all  the  changes  the  years 

253 


TBE    MOFFATS 


had  brought !  Dukinfield  nursery  no  longer 
offered  a  welcome  to  the  one-time  gardener,  for 
infirmity  and  financial  misfortune  had  forced  Mr. 
Smith  to  leave  the  stone  house,  and  to  take  up  his 
abode  in  a  cottage  at  Flixton.  There  Mary  Mof- 
fat spent  long  fragments  of  her  English  visit,  and 
there  took  place  a  parting  tinged  with  particular 
sadness  and  anxiety. 

At  the  historic,  far-famed  London  Bridge,  the 
Motfat  family,  attended  by  a  host  of  friends,  em- 
barked on  a  steamer  which  was  to  convey  them 
to  the  ship  at  Gravesend.  There  on  shipboard 
came  the  final,  excruciating  farewell,  for  upon  the 
shoulders  of  our  missionaries  had  fallen  at  last 
that  peculiar  and  goading  cross  which  the  foreign 
missionary  cannot  hope  to  avoid.  They  must 
leave  the  children  behind  in  the  homeland  for  the 
education  which  the  non-Christian  country  must 
ever  fail  to  supply.  Mary  and  Ann,  the  eldest,  with 
Jack,  Elizabeth,  and  Jane,  the  three  youngest, 
were  to  return  with  their  parents  to  South  Africa, 
but  Robert  and  Helen,  aged  sixteen  and  fourteen, 
were  to  stay  in  England.  With  pale,  stricken 
faces  the  boy  and  girl  watched  the  distance  widen 
between  themselves  and  the  ship  which  was  bear- 
254 


"  TEE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND  VILLAGES  " 

ing  father,  mother,  brother,  and  sisters  far  away 
to  Africa.  It  was  twenty-seven  years  before 
Helen  Moffat  saw  her  parents  again! 

Under  the  gallant  name  of  Fortitude  the  ship 
braved  wind  and  wave  until  she  sighted  Table 
Mountain  and  sailed  again  into  the  rugged 
harbor  of  Cape  Town.  From  there  the  Moffats 
went  by  coasting  schooner  to  Algoa  Bay,  where 
they  waited,  until  even  their  rare  patience  was 
exhausted,  for  the  arrival  of  their  baggage 
shipped  on  a  slow  sailing  vessel  from  England. 
When,  after  months  of  delay,  the  tardy  craft  ap- 
peared in  the  bay,  it  was  but  to  tantalize  the 
travelers,  for  it  was  several  days  before  she  could 
make  a  landing,  owing  to  the  storm  which  pre- 
vailed. All  one  night  Moffat  paced  the  beach 
while  the  gale  tossed  four  vessels  in  wrecks  upon 
the  shore.  In  the  morning  he  found,  to  his  relief, 
that  the  Agrippina  had  held  fast  to  her  moorings 
and  the  precious  cargo  was  safe. 

At  last  the  wagons  were  loaded,  and  the  caravan 
was  ready  to  start.  The  long  spans  of  oxen 
wound  over  the  sandy  plains,  the  ''crew"  uttered 
their  weird  yells,  the  long  whips  cracked  like  rifle 
shots,  and  the  covered  wagons  creaked  gleefully 

255 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


as  the  returning  missionaries  trekked  slowly  but 
steadily  toward  home.  At  the  Orange  River,  that 
reminder  of  many  an  exciting  escapade  in  days 
past,  they  came  upon  a  new  device  for  transporta- 
tion, a  pontoon,  or  floating  bridge,  extended  across 
stream.  It  was  a  happy  improvement  upon  the 
tricky  and  uncertain  method  of  fording,  but  what 
if  our  travelers  could  have  seen,  even  in  fancy, 
that  immense  iron  bridge  w^hich  now  spans  the 
river,  and  over  which  the  railroad  passes  on  its 
famous  route  "from  Cape  to  Cairo"! 

A  few  more  outspannings  and  inspannings,  and 
they  came  to  another  stream,  crossable  by  fords 
only,  the  Vaal  River.  Before  they  reached  its 
banks,  they  caught  sight  of  a  solitary  figure  on 
horseback,  coming  forward  through  the  wilder- 
ness as  if  on  purpose  to  meet  them.  ''Dr.  Living- 
stone," cried  the  Moffats  in  high  glee!  And  Dr. 
Livingstone  it  was  who  had  ridden  all  the  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  from  Kuruman  to  greet  the 
returning  travelers.  Was  there  a  girlish  heart, 
think  you,  that  beat  tremulously  as  those  keen, 
gray  eyes  flashed  a  welcome  into  her  own? 

Beyond  the  Vaal  the  return  was  a  triumphal 
procession,  for  day  by  day  old  friends  met  them 
256 


"TEE  SMOKE  OF  A  THOUSAND  VILLAGES" 

with  fresh  relays  of  oxen  to  speed  them  on  their 
way.  As  they  drew  near  to  Kuruman,  their  ad- 
vance was  more  like  a  royal  progress,  for  no  king 
could  have  received  more  genuine  homage  from 
his  subjects  than  these  missionaries  from  their 
native  peoples.  When  the  last  stage  of  the  jour- 
ney was  reached,  impatience  could  brook  no  delay, 
and  without  stopping  for  the  night,  they  kept  on, 
on,  until  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the 
tenth  day  of  December,  1843,  the  long  caravan 
passed  under  the  Babylonian  willows  into  the 
long-lost  home,  Kuruman. 

Even  at  that  unseemly  hour  crowds  gathered  to 
welcome  them,  and  the  next  day  and  for  many 
days  and  weeks  thereafter  fjeople  came  from  near 
and  far  to  look  into  the  loved  faces  which  they 
had  begun  to  think  they  should  never  see  again. 
Among  the  visitors  came  a  bent  and  bowed  figure, 
about  whom  lingered  a  wistful  suggestion  of  past 
glory.  It  was  Mothibi,  chief  of  the  Batlapings, 
in  whose  village  at  Lattakoo  the  missionaries  had 
spent  so  many  harrowing  years.  He  and  his 
wife,  Mahuto,  had  never  joined  the  new  settle- 
ment at  Kuruman,  but  had  drifted  away  to  the 
southeast,    grieved    and    disappointed    over   the 

257 


TBE    M  OFF  ATS 


death  of  Peclo,  their  first-born,  and  alienated  from 
the  region  where  he  had  died.  ^\niile  the  Moffats 
were  absent  in  England,  Mothibi  had  come  to 
Kuruman  to  acknowledge  at  last,  after  all 
his  years  of  vacillation  and  indifference,  his 
allegiance  to  the  Christian's  God.  It  was  a  touch- 
ing scene  when  Mothibi,  with  Mahuto,  his  wife, 
alighted  from  their  ox-cart  and  proceeded  to  the 
Moffats'  house,  to  express  w^ith  rapture  their 
thanks  to  God  for  having  brought  the  mission- 
aries safely  home. 

Meanwhile  the  new  recruits,  William  Ross  and 
David  Livingstone,  prospected  for  new  sites  in 
the  regions  beyond,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ross  choosing 
the  village  of  Taung,  one  hundred  miles  to  the 
east,  and  Dr.  Livingstone  the  Bakhatla  tribe,  two 
hundred  miles  to  the  north.  There  in  the  forest 
primeval  he  built  his  hut  in  a  valley  called  Ma- 
botsa,  ''a  marriage  feast." 


258 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  ALMOND-TREE  OF  KURUMAN 

I  shall  not  swerve  a  hairbreadth  from  my  work  while  life  is 
spared. — David  Livingstone. 


'THERE   .    .    .    MAKY      PLEDGED      HIM     HEB 

LOVE   AND    LOYALTY    WHILE    LIFE 

SHOULD  LAST." 


XVI 
THE  ALMOND-TREE  OF  KURUMAN 


! UNSET  is  the  "very  witching  time"  of 
day  to  those  who  catch  its  spell.  The 
daytime  clamor  is  hushed,  the  practical 
mood  of  toil  subsides,  and  into  the 
world  of  young  loves,  ardent  hopes,  and 
old  griefs  flits  the  unspoiled  spirit  of 
man.  It  is  the  precious  hour  of  ingathering, 
when  the  treasures  of  life,  its  romance,  and  its 
immortal  faith  are  garnered  anew  to  enrich  the 
labor  of  the  morrow. 

It  was  at  this  enchanted  hour  between  daylight 
and  dark  when  atfairs  at  Kuruman  took  on  a  new 
coloring  of  hope  and  significance,  when  the  meas- 
ure of  the  day's  toil  was  computed  and  the  unfin- 
ished task  defined.  On  a  little  hill  overlooking 
the  town,  the  three  missionary  families  met  reg- 
ularly for  evening  prayers  and  counsel.  Before 
them  stretched  the  smiling  valley  which  their  own 
efforts  had  transformed  from  a  reedy  morass  into 
a  land  of  plenty.  Upon  the  hills  surrounding  the 
valley  were  perched  the  native  villages  with  prim- 

261 


TRE    MOFFAT S 


itive,  cone-shaped  huts  interspersed  with  cottages 
of  semi-European  design.  It  was  a  singularly- 
tranquil  scene.  The  light  blue  smoke  rose  in  the 
still  air,  the  cattle  came  slowly  home  to  the  folds, 
the  Bechuana  boys  took  their  evening  canter  upon 
the  backs  of  their  young  oxen,  and  the  old  men 
talked  of  the  days  past  when  the  Kuruman  valley 
was  the  haunt  of  the  wild  Bushmen  with  their 

—  poisoned  arrows.  What  a  miracle  of  beauty  had 
been  wrought  out  of  desolation!  Along  the  val- 
ley's edge  ran  the  watercourses,  overhung  with 
gray  willows  and  dark  green  syringa  trees  with 
their  sweet-scented  blossoms.  The  pomegranate 
hedge  with  its  scarlet  flowers,  the  orange  and  fig 
trees,  the  well-ordered  gardens  of  corn,  maize,  and 
native  grain,  all  formed  a  lovely  tropical  back- 
ground for  the  stately  stone  church,  and  the  well- 
built  mission  houses  and  school.     The  missionary 

r~"  who  had  once  been  a  gardener  in  the  scrupulously 
kept  estates  of  England  had  transferred  his  skill 
to  the  untamed  wilderness  of  South  Africa,  and 

k.  behold  the  result ! 

Long  ago  when  Robert  and  Mary  Moffat  came 
as  bride  and  groom  to  the  squalid  village  of  Lat- 
takoo,  with  its  tangled  thorn  hedge,  its  straw  huts, 
262 


THE  ALMOND-TREE  OF  KURUMAN 

and  its  barren  land,  they  dared  to  dream  of  the 
day  when  a  bit  of  green,  luxuriant  England 
should  be  transplanted  into  sandy,  sterile  Africa. 
To  few  mortals  is  the  blessed  boon  given  to  see  the 
dream  of  one's  life  come  so  completely  true  as  it 
did  for  our  two  missionaries  in  Bechuanaland. 

The  mission  station  at  Kuruman  had  become  in 
the  course  of  years  a  center  of  influence  and  hos- 
pitality for  the  whole  region  north  of  Cape  Col- 
ony. It  served  as  a  kind  of  mother  station  to  a 
number  of  infant  missions  born  in  recent  years 
in  the  country  north  of  the  Vaal  River.  Supplies 
of  books,  food,  and  clothing,  as  well  as  the  more 
needed  commodity,  practical  advice,  were  always 
forthcoming  from  the  veteran  family  at  Kuruman 
to  the  new  missionaries  in  the  interior.  Not  only 
missionaries  but  travelers  and  traders  shared  the 
benefit  of  that  Christian  home.  "Dear  old  Kuru- 
man!" wrote  Mr.  Oswell,  a  well-known  explorer, 
*'you  were  a  very  oasis,  peopled  with  the  kindest 
friends.  My  short  visits  to  you  were  among  the 
happiest  of  my  life ;  no  little  kingdom  ever  had  a 
better  king  and  queen,  no  home  a  better  host  and 
hostess.  How  well  I  remember  the  exquisite  ar- 
rangement and  order  of  the  mother's  household, 

263 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


the  affectionate  interest  in  the  wayfarers,  and  the 
father's  courtly  hospitality  and  kindly  advice,  and 
the  ready  willingness  with  which  he  lent  himself 
to  smooth  our  difficulties  and  help  us  on  our  way. 
Without  Mr.  Moffat's  aid  we  should  have  fared 
but  poorly;  with  it  the  stones  were  taken  out  of 
the  path." 

Under  the  great  almond-tree  at  Kuruman, 
which  blossoms  to  this  day,  there  was  enacted  a 
scene  of  true  springtime  flavor.  At  many  a 
''witching  hour"  a  young  man  and  woman  sat  to- 
gether under  that  tree,  lost  in  the  enchantment 
of  each  other's  society.  The  man  had  blue-gray 
eyes,  in  which,  as  history  tells  us,  no  man  ever 
saw  fear,  but  in  which  the  maiden  by  his  side  saw 
the  dream  light  of  love.  He  had  the  aspect  of  a 
soldier  wounded  in  the  war,  for  his  left  arm  hung 
limp  from  the  shoulder  and  his  face  bore  the  marks 
of  pain  stoically  endured.  It  was  David  Living- 
stone, who  had  come  down  from  Mabotsa  after 
that  famous  encounter  with  the  lion  of  which 
story-books  delight  to  tell.  He  had  followed  the 
tribe  on  a  lion  hunt,  and  a  gigantic  lion,  the  larg- 
est ever  seen  by  the  natives,  sprang  upon  him  in 
the  frenzy  of  dying  rage.  The  animal 's  great  teeth 
264 


THE  ALMOND-TREE  OF  KURUMAN 

crunched  the  doctor's  left  shoulder,  shattering  the 
bone  to  splinters,  and  leaving  eleven  tooth-marks 
upon  his  arm.  Just  as  the  monstrous  paw  struck 
his  head,  a  native  fired  a  shot,  thereby  diverting 
the  beast's  attention  and  nearly  losing  his  own 
life  in  the  desperate  game.  To  his  dying  day 
David  Livingstone  carried  a  crippled  arm  which 
gave  him  excruciating  pain  every  time  he  lifted  a 
fowling-piece  to  his  shoulder. 

After  the  accident  he  went  down  to  Kuruman  to 
secure  healing  for  his  wounded  arm  and  solace 
for  his  wounded  heart.  There  under  the  almond- 
tree  the  latter  cure  was  wrought,  for  there  Mary, 
the  oldest  daughter  of  the  Moffats,  pledged  him 
her  love  and  loyalty  while  life  should  last.  The 
high  destiny  of  her  womanhood  was  fulfilled  in 
that  hour  when  David  Livingstone  asked  her  to  be 
his  wife. 

Another  cord  stretched  from  Kuruman  to  the 
wilderness  front  when  Mary  Livingstone  began 
her  pioneer  career  in  the  house  which  her  husband 
had  built  for  her  at  Mabotsa,  ''every  brick  and 
every  stick  being  put  square  by  my  own  right 
hand,"  as  he  laughingly  boasted.  In  the  adven- 
tures of  the  bridal  pair  Mrs.  Moffat  lived  anew  her 

265 


THE   M  OFF  ATS 


early  married  life  in  the  heathen  surroundings  of 
Lattakoo.  At  Mabotsa,  Chonuane,  Kolobeng,  and 
in  the  ox-cart  which  made  that  matchless  trek 
across  the  Kalahari  Desert  to  Lake  Ngami,  Mrs. 
Livingstone,  like  her  mother,  gave  her  life  a  will- 
ing sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  the  man  she  loved  and 
the  cause  they  served. 

While  David  Livingstone  was  discovering 
worlds  unknown  in  the  mysterious  depths  of  cen- 
tral Africa,  Robert  Moffat  was  performing  a 
wonderful  exploit  of  his  own  down  in  his  study  at 
Kuruman.  He  was  translating  the  Old  Testa- 
ment into  Sechuana,  hoping,  before  he  died,  to 
give  the  whole  Bible  to  the  people  in  their  native 
speech. 

It  was  a  ''great  and  terrible  labor,"  as  the 
novelist  Balzac  once  said  of  his  life-work.  Had 
Moffat  been  a  student  of  Greek  and  Hebrew,  the 
task  would  have  been  simplified,  but  the  meager- 
ness  of  his  early  education  increased  the  difficul- 
ties as  well  as  the  marvel  of  the  achievement. 
Before  transcribing  even  one  short  verse,  he  com- 
pared several  translations  in  order  to  catch  the 
meaning  nearest  the  original.  Sometimes  he 
would  spend  a  whole  forenoon  upon  two  or  three 
266 


THE  ALMOND-TREE  OF  KURUMAN 

verses,  searching  in  lexicons,  versions,  and  com- 
mentaries for  the  exact  significance.  His  head 
suffered  disastrously  from  the  terrific  strain,  giv- 
ing him  pain  night  and  day  except  when  his  trou- 
bles were  forgotten  in  the  fascination  of  his  task. 
Pain,  perplexities,  and,  worst  of  all,  interruptions 
every  day  and  all  day,  as  sudden  as  they  were  im- 
perious !  These  were  the  obstacles  through 
which  the  translator  fought  his  way  to  the  goal. 
In  the  year  1857  the  last  verse  was  recorded,  and 
lo,  his  work  of  nearly  thirty  years  was  done !  He 
himself  was  staggered  by  the  realization.  ^'I 
feel  it  to  be  an  awful  thing  to  translate  the  Book 
of  God,"  he  wrote.  "When  I  had  finished  the 
last  verse,  I  could  hardly  believe  that  I  was  in 
the  world,  so  difficult  was  it  for  me  to  realize  that 
my  work  of  so  many  years  was  completed.  A 
feeling  came  over  me  as  if  I  should  die.  My 
heart  beat  like  the  strokes  of  a  hammer.  My  sen- 
sations found  vent  by  my  falling  on  my  knees  and 
thanking  God  for  his  grace  and  goodness  in  giving 
me  strength  to  accomplish  my  task." 

Scarcely  had  the  last  sheets  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment come  from  the  press  before  Moffat  was  off  in 
his  ox-cart  to  visit  his  old  friend  Mosilikatse,  now 

267 


TEE   MOFFATS 


hiding  with  his  tribe  in  the  wild  and  inaccessible 
region  south  of  the  Zambezi. 

Incursions  of  Dutch  Boers  into  native  territory- 
had  driven  this  warrior  chieftain,  the  ''hero  of 
a  hundred  fights,"  into  flight  toward  the  north- 
east and  into  a  tribal  isolation  well-nigh  impene- 
trable. Once  before,  Moffat  had  worked  his  way 
through  an  uncharted  wilderness  to  the  haunts  of 
Mosilikatse  at  the  call  of  the  chieftain  to  "Ra- 
Mary."  This  time,  however,  his  journey  was 
planned  in  far-away  England.  After  David  Liv- 
ingstone had  made  his  famous  trek  across  conti- 
nent from  the  east  to  the  west  coast  and  back 
again,  he  had  sailed  home  to  England  to  join  his 
wife  and  plan  even  vaster  explorations  in  Africa. 
His  presence  aroused  new  interest  in  the  native 
tribes  and  led  the  London  Missionary  Society  to 
appoint  missionaries  for  the  Makololo  and  Mata- 
bele,  who  lived  in  the  marshes  and  forests  of  cen- 
tral Africa.  As  a  result  of  this  decision  Moffat 
was  asked  by  the  directors  to  go  for  a  year  to  the 
Matabele,  Mosilikatse 's  tribe,  and  there,  with  the 
help  of  two  younger  men,  establish  a  permanent 
mission. 

It  was  a  staggering  proposition.  Moffat  was 
268 


THE  ALMOND-TREE  OF  KURUMAN 

over  sixty  years  of  age  and  had  spent  forty  years 
in  hard  work  for  the  missionary  society.  To  ac- 
cept the  proposal  of  the  directors  meant  he  must 
live  again  the  toil  and  hardship  of  his  early  years 
at  Lattakoo.  To  become  a  pioneer  at  the  age  of 
sixty-two  is  no  easy  feat  to  perform.  The  unfet- 
tered daring  of  youth  has  spent  itself  by  the  time 
a  man  reaches  middle  life.  But  Robert  Moffat, 
by  the  constant  use  of  his  faculties  in  adventurous 
tasks,  had  kept  alive  within  him  the  intrepid  spirit 
of  boyhood.  In  two  days  his  mind  was  made  up. 
*'I  will  go,"  he  said,  ''but  I  must  start  at  once  and 
first  prepare  the  minds  of  Mosilikatse  and  his 
people  for  the  coming  among  them  of  missionaries, 
and  explain  to  them  the  whole  plan."  So  off  he 
went  on  a  preliminary  trek  of  seven  hundred  miles 
and  back  to  negotiate  a  welcome  for  the  future 
missionaries.  ''Yes,"  said  Mosilikatse,  "the 
missionaries  may  come,  but  my  friend  'Ra-Mary' 
must  come  himself.  These  new  men,  I  do  not 
know  them.  All  men  are  not  alike."  Suspicion 
had  fallen  upon  all  white  people  since  the  Boers 
began  their  wanton  assaults  upon  the  native 
tribes.  Once  admit  the  white  settlers,  and  the 
Boers  and  destruction  were  sure  to  follow.     Thus 

269 


THE   M  OFF  ATS 


reasoned    the    native    mind,    not    without    some 
foundation  in  fact. 

In  the  year  1859  new  missionaries  had  arrived 
from  England,  and,  with  Moffat  and  his  son  John, 
w^ere  ready  to  begin  their  emigration  to  the  far 
frontier.  It  was  a  slow  and  laborious  trek,  for 
the  carts  had  to  carry  heavy  loads  to  furnish 
homes  seven  hundred  miles  removed  from  the 
nearest  shop.  By  night  and  day  the  wagons 
struggled  across  the  Kalahari,  until  they  drew  up 
at  last  under  the  shadow  of  the  Bamangwato 
Mountains.  From  this  point  the  sandy  route 
merged  into  a  tangled  forest  trail  along  which 
the  ox-carts  wound  single  file,  beating  their  slow 
w^ay  through  the  grassy  undergrowth.  Scouts 
went  on  ahead  to  choose  the  path  which  sometimes 
circled  around  monstrous  ant  hills,  stones,  and 
stumps.  At  times  w^hen  the  forest  became  par- 
ticularly dense  a  halt  was  called,  and  all  hands, 
black  and  w^hite,  wielded  the  pickax  and  blazed  a 
trail.  Foremost  in  these  exertions  w^as  their  vet- 
eran guide,  Robert  Moffat,  who  was  here,  there, 
and  everywhere  in  turn,  possessed  of  the  energy 
of  three  men.  No  step  was  more  elastic,  no  figure 
more  erect,  than  that  of  the  missionary  who  for 
270 


TBE  ALMONB-TBEE  OF  KURUMAN 

forty-three  years  had  trekked  over  the  African 
veld,  dug  watercourses,  reclaimed  the  stubborn 
soil,  built  houses  and  even  a  stately  stone  church, 
and  translated  the  entire  Bible  and  Pilgrim's 
Progress  into  a  language  which  he  himself  had 
reduced  to  written  form! 

It  was  a  trek  of  three  months  before  the  trav- 
elers came  at  last  to  the  camp  of  Mosilikatse,  hid- 
den in  a  gloomy  forest  on  the  banks  of  the  Im- 
pembezi  River.  There,  in  the  king's  court,  "Ra- 
Mary"  received  his  old-time  friendly  welcome, 
but  toward  the  missionaries  who  had  come  to  stay 
the  chief's  attitude  was  enigmatical,  to  say  the 
least.  As  settlers,  they  were  naturally  eager  to 
plant  their  gardens  before  the  rainy  season  be- 
gan, but  the  chief  evaded  and  procrastinated 
whenever  Moffat  urged  the  selection  of  a  site  for 
the  mission  station.  Like  the  first  missionaries  in 
Mothibi's  kraal,  they  were  kept  waiting  for  per- 
mission to  settle.  Meanwhile  the  tropical  heat 
and  thunderstorms  of  summer  overtook  them 
while  they  had  no  other  shelter  than  the  canvas 
tilts  of  their  wagons  and  the  tents  they  had 
pitched.     The  patience  and  tact  of  their    leader 

271 


TBE    MOFFATS 


were  never  more  sorely  tried  than  in  those  days 
and  "WGcks  of  unexplained  waiting. 

It  was  the  climax  of  perplexity  when,  without 
warning,  chief  and  people  broke  camp  and  stole 
away  into  the  forest.  The  missionaries  were  told 
that  men  would  be  sent  to  escort  them  to  the  new 
settlement,  and  with  that  promise  they  had  to  con- 
sole themselves  a  fortnight  longer,  while  their 
supplies  decreased  daily.  Never  had  Moffat  been 
given  a  more  difficult  problem  to  solve.  Beset  by 
doubts,  himself,  and  chafing  under  the  enforced 
inaction,  he  had  to  bolster  up  the  failing  courage 
of  his  companions,  who  thought  it  a  waste  of  time 
to  linger  in  the  camp  of  a  reluctant  chieftain, 
when  other  chiefs  and  other  tribes  were  ready  to 
give  them  welcome. 

One  day  in  December,  two  months  after  their 
first  arrival,  the  evil  spell  was  broken  by  the  ap- 
proach of  two  headmen,  whose  smiling  faces  be- 
tokened good  news  at  last.  The  chief  was  on  his 
way  to  Inyati,  they  announced,  and  had  sent  two 
teams  of  oxen  to  transport  the  missionaries 
thither.  No  time  was  lost  in  preparation.  Tents 
were  struck,  wagons  were  loaded,  and  they  were 
off  on  the  trek,  with  the  zest  of  boys  dismissed 
272 


TEE  ALMOND-TREE  OF  KURUMAN 

from  school.  It  was  the  day  after  Christmas 
when  their  ox-carts  drew  up  at  the  kraal  of  Inyati 
and  each  man  chose  a  tree  under  which  to  pitch 
his  tent  and,  perchance,  later  to  build  his  house. 
As  Moffat  had  suspected,  Mosilikatse  and  his 
tribe  had  been  fighting  the  old  fear  of  Boer  inva- 
sion and  debating  the  wisdom  of  allowing  the  mis- 
sionaries to  remain.  With  this  point  settled,  the 
most  crucial  stage  of  the  undertaking  was  safely 
passed.  There  remained,  however,  other  and 
heavy  labor  for  Moffat  to  perform  before  he  could 
retrace  his  way  through  the  forest  jungle  to  Mary 
and  the  two  daughters  who  were  left  behind  at 
Kuruman. 

The  permanent  settlement  at  Inyati  was  begun, 
and  early  and  late  the  veteran  missionary  was  at 
work,  now  at  the  sawpit,  then  at  the  blacksmith's 
forge  or  carpenter's  bench,  or  wherever  his  many- 
sided  skill  could  serve  a  need.  Besides  the  man- 
ual labor  he  must  allow  for  hours  spent  in  the 
chief's  company,  when  he  sought  in  vain  to  estab- 
lish connections  with  Dr.  Livingstone's  expedition 
on  the  Zambezi.  It  was  only  after  long  persuasion 
that  Mosilikatse  agreed  to  send  carriers  to  Vic- 
toria Falls  with  mail  for  the  new  missionaries 

273 


TEE    MOFFATS 


among  the  Makololo.  Isolation  had  been  the 
watchword  of  the  Matabele  for  twenty  years.  But 
one  trail  to  the  outside  world  was  kept  open,  and 
that  led  to  "Ea-Mary's"  home  at  Kuruman,  for 
along  that  trail  no  evil  was  likely  to  travel. 

When  June  came  to  the  forests  of  Inyati,  Moffat 
knew  that  his  task  was  fully  done  and  he  was  free 
to  go  home.  On  a  Sunday  morning  he  walked 
along  the  narrow  path  to  the  chief's  kraal  to  speak 
for  the  last  time  with  Mosilikatse  and  his  people. 
There  in  the  courtyard  the  old,  familiar  scene 
was  enacted;  the  word  of  command  was  given; 
the  warriors  filed  in  and  seated  themselves  in  a 
semicircle  on  the  ground;  the  women  crouched 
behind  huts  and  trees  to  listen  to  the  farewell 
message  of  "Ea-Mary,"  the  first  white  man  they 
had  ever  known  and  loved.  Moffat  knew  it  was 
the  last  time  he  would  face  this  black  audience,  for 
never  again  could  he  come  to  the  kraal  of  Mosili- 
katse. Younger  hands  than  his  would  minister 
to  the  people's  needs,  younger  voices  than  his 
would  teach  them  the  way  of  eternal  life.  It  was 
a  solemn  scene,  the  climax  of  many  urgent  appeals 
to  chief  and  tribe  to  give  their  allegiance  to  the 
great  Chief  who  knew  no  white  or  black.  On  the 
274 


THE  ALMOND-TREE  OF  KUHUMAN 

morrow  the  ox-carts  vanished  do^vn  the  forest 
trail,  and  Mosilikatse  saw  his  friend  ''Ra-Mary" 
no  more. 

In  the  fever-stricken  territory  of  the  Zambezi, 
beyond  the  haunts  of  the  Matabele  and  the  Mako- 
lolo,  another  missionary  fought  the  hardest  battle 
of  his  whole  embattled  life.  There  in  the  village 
of  Shupanga,  David  Livingstone  struggled  with 
wild  grief,  for  Mary,  his  beloved  wife,  lay  dying. 
Beside  her  rude  bed,  made  of  boxes  but  covered 
with  a  soft  mattress,  watched  "the  man  who  had 
faced  so  many  deaths  and  braved  so  many  dan- 
gers, but  who  was  now  utterly  broken  down  and 
weeping  like  a  child."  From  the  hour  of  Mary's 
death  those  blue-gray  eyes  which  never  showed 
fear  carried  a  grief  which  time  could  not  efface. 
In  the  journal  which  this  lonely  man  made  his 
confidant  were  written  these  plaintive  words :  ''I 
loved  her  when  I  married  her,  and  the  longer  I 
lived  with  her  I  loved  her  the  more.  Oh,  my 
Mary,  my  Mary !  how  often  we  have  longed  for  a 
quiet  home  since  you  and  I  were  cast  adrift  at 
Kolobeng. '  * 

Under  the  almond-tree  at  Kuruman,  where  chil- 
dren's play  and  the  romance  of  youth  were  once 
enacted,  loneliness  and  grief  came  to  take  up  their 

275 


THE    31  OFF  ATS 


abode.  But  in  the  lives  of  Robert  and  Mary  Mof- 
fat grief  never  expelled  thankfulness,  nor  loneli- 
ness and  old  age  the  romance  of  true  love.  With 
Scotch  intensity  they  mourned  the  loss  of  their 
first-born,  but  with  Christian  loyalty  they  re- 
joiced that  her  life  had  been  laid  down  in  sacrifice 
for  the  cause  they  loved. 

Children  and  grandchildren  came  and  went 
under  thfe  great  almond-tree ;  the  prattle  of  child- 
ish voices  was  now  heard  and  then  lost  in  the 
march  of  the  years;  but  through  all  the  changes 
wrought  by  time  Robert  and  Mary  worked  on  un- 
dismayed, "the  strength  of  two  being  always  felt 
in  each  one's  power."  "Robert  can  never  say  I 
hindered  him  in  his  work,"  remarked  Mrs.  Mof- 
fat in  the  mission  house  in  London  upon  their 
final  return  to  England.  "No,  indeed,"  affirmed 
her  husband,  "but  I  can  tell  you  s^  has  often  sent 
me  away  from  house  and  home  for  months  to- 
gether for  evangelizing  purposes  and  in  my  ab- 
sence has  managed  the  station  as  well  as  or  better 
than  I  could  myself." 

Meanwhile  David  Livingstone  vanished  into  the 
depths  of  the  great  continent,  crying  as  he  went, 
"I  will  open  up  a  path  into  the  interior  or  perish." 
276 


CHAPTER  XVII 
THE  REVEILLE 

I  go  back  to  Africa  to  try  to  make  an  open  path  for  com- 
merce and  Christianity;  do  you  carry  out  the  work  which  I 
have  begun.    I  leave  it  with  you. — David  Livingstone. 


"  THROUGH 
ALL   THE 
MEMORIES 
OF    THE 
PAST 


ROBERT 

MOFFAT 

DREAMED 

ANEW 

THE  FUTURE 

OF    HIS 

ADOPTED 

COUNTRY." 


XVII 
THE  REVEILLE 


T  was  a  little  gray  and  green  village  on 
the  banks  of  the  River  Carron,  near 
the  Firth  of  Forth,  a  genuine  little 
Scotch  town,  like  Thrums  and  Drum- 
tochty.  Stone  cottages,  built  close  to 
the  ground  and  close  to  one  another, 
cuddled  under  the  big  trees  which  shaded  the  vil- 
lage street.  In  the  midst  of  ampler  grounds,  bor- 
dering the  parish  kirk,  stood  the  manse,  a  more 
pretentious  structure  than  its  neighbors,  sur- 
rounded by  a  mass  of  shrubbery  and  a  vine-clad 
garden  wall.  Collier  boys  played  at  "pitch-and- 
toss"  on  the  village  green,  while  smaller  children 
clustered  in  the  stone  doorways  of  their  cottage 
homes.  It  was  one  of  those  quaint,  appealing 
little  communities,  with  a  spicy  flavor  of  human 
interest,  which  every  lover  of  Scotland  is  quick 
to  catch.  ''Once  the  lights  of  a  little  town  are  lit, 
who  could  ever  hope  to  tell  all  its  story,  or  the 
story  of  a  single  wynd  in  it.    And  who,  looking  at 

279 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


lighted  windows,  needs  to  turn  to  books?"    Thus 
wrote  the  story-teller  of  Thrums. 

One  autumn  day  in  the  year  1872  two  men  drove 
up  to  the  village  green  in  Carronshore  and  looked 
about  inquiringly.  The  elder  had  a  baffled  look, 
as  if  hunting  for  something  he  desired  supremely 
and  could  not  find.  Wistfully  he  scanned  the 
cottages,  the  roadways,  the  truck-lines  leading 
to  the  coal-pits,  and  shook  his  head  in  disillu- 
sionment. Nothing  looked  natural  to  the  man 
who  had  come  back  after  sixty-three  years  to  re- 
visit his  boyhood  home.  At  last  he  caught  sight 
of  a  red-tiled  cottage  near  some  old  storehouses, 
and  his  eyes  flashed  with  the  delight  of  recogni- 
tion. It  was  the  very  house  in  which  he  had  lived 
as  a  boy.  With  that  landmark  identified,  the 
whole  place  became  gradually  familiar,  the  village 
green,  the  favorite  nooks  for  play,  the  river  wind- 
ing behind  the  town,  and  here  and  there  the  homes 
of  one-time  playmates.  Had  they  all  vanished, 
those  companions  of  bygone  years,  or  could  he 
detect  the  boy  or  girl  he  used  to  know  under  the 
guise,  perchance,  of  yonder  tailor  sewing  busily  in 
his  shop,  or  that  little  old-fashioned  figure  run- 
ning breathlessly  across  the  green? 
280 


TBE  REVEILLE 


Even  as  he  pondered  the  discoveries  it  might  be 
his  lot  to  make,  the  little  figure  drew  nearer,  and 
a  woman  clad  in  the  quaint  Scotch  attire  of  short 
skirt,  short  gown,  and  mutch  seized  him  by  both 
hands  and  gazed  rapturously  into  his  face. 
Haste,  excitement,  and  chronic  asthma  combined 
had  bereft  her  of  the  power  of  speech,  until  at  last 
she  gasped  the  words,  *'Are — you — really — the 
greiat  Moffat?" 

''Well,  I  believe  I  must  be  the  person  you  refer 
to,  whether  great  or  not,"  answered  the  tall  old 
man  with  a  kindly  smile,  ''but  why  do  you  ask?" 

"Wliy!  Because  I  was  at  the  schule  wi'  ye. 
— My  name  is  Mary  Kay,  and  you'll  surely  come 
to  mind  me ;  I  sat  in  the  class  next  ye,  and  ye  often 
helped  me  wi'  my  lessons.  I  have  aye  keepit  my 
e'e  on  you  since  you  left  Carronshore,  and  I'll  let 
you  see  a  lot  of  your  ain  likenesses.  I  was  aye 
sure  you  would  come  back  to  this  place  some  day ; 
and  though  I  didna  expect  ye  the  noo,  I'm  fair 
daft  wi'  joy  at  seeing  ye." 

It  was  a  proud  moment  for  Mary  Kay  when 
she  guided  about  the  town  the  man  on  whom  she 
had  "keepit  her  e'e"  for  sixty  years.  First,  she 
led  him  to  the  red-tiled  cottage  where  the  Moffat 

281 


THE   M  OFF  ATS 


family  had  lived  so  long  ago.  Wliat  a  drift  of 
memories  the  old  house  brought !  ' '  Our  eight-day 
clock  stood  here,"  said  Moffat,  as  he  looked  about 
the  room  which  neither  time  nor  occupation  by 
others  had  wholly  altered.  "The  girnel  (oat- 
meal chest)  stood  there,  and  the  aiimrie  (cup- 
board) in  that  corner."  And  then  with  a  catch  in 
his  voice  he  recalled  the  winter  evenings,  when, 
behind  the  "lighted  windows"  and  before  that 
very  fireside,  he  sat  w^ith  his  brothers  and  sisters, 
knitting  in  hand,  listening  to  the  stories  of  the 
Moravian  missionaries  which  the  mother  was  wont 
to  tell  her  little  brood.  It  was  that  Scotch  fireside 
which  had  sent  him  out  to  South  Africa  to  live 
again  those  hero  tales  for  the  space  of  fifty  yeai^. 
From  the  red-tiled  cottage  Mary  Kay  led  her 
guests  to  her  own  humble  home,  where  she  pro- 
duced Moffat's  "ain  likenesses,"  safely  stowed 
away  in  the  leaves  of  an  ancient  volume  of  Bax- 
ter's Saints'  Rest.  They  were  woodcut  pictures 
of  Robert  Moffat,  clipped  from  magazines  and 
hoarded  as  priceless  treasures.  "They  were  all 
faithful  likenesses,"  she  avowed,  "and  were  even 
like  him  yet,  except  that  he  had  grown  a  terribly 
lang  beard,  and  she  never  could  thole  these  lang 
282 


THE  EEVEILLE 


beards;  although,"  she  added  apologetically,  ''to 
be  sure,  John  Knox  had  a  lang  beard,  just  like 
yersel'." 

Were  there  other  of  his  schoolmates  still  living 
in  Carronshore,  Moffat  sought  to  know?  Mary 
Kay  could  think  of  but  one,  and  she,  alas,  was 
away  on  a  visit  to  her  grandchildren  at  Greenock. 
But  hold,  there  was  a  master  tailor  in  the  place, 
Andrew  Johnstone  by  name.  He  might  perhaps 
remember.    They  would  go  and  see. 

The  tailor  sat  cross-legged  on  his  board  plying 
his  needle  industriously,  as  the  visitors  entered 
his  shop. 

''Andrew,  man,"  exclaimed  Mary  Kay  by  way 
of  introduction,  "here's  Moffat  come  to  see  you, 
the  great  missionary  from  Africa." 

"Aye,  aye,  maybe  he  is,"  was  the  gruff  re- 
sponse, "but  there  are  plenty  of  folks  ganging 
about  the  country  noo-a-days  passin'  themselves 
off  as  great  men,  and  they  are  just  a  wheen  im- 
postors." 

Somewhat  abashed  by  this  chilly  reception, 
Mary  Kay  expostulated:  "0  man,  Andrew,  are 
you  no  believin'  me?  and  I've  kenned  him  myseP 
a'  my  days." 

283 


THE    M  OFF  ATS 


Whereupon  Andrew  stopped  sewing,  looked 
scrutinizingly  at  Moffat  and  remarked  in  the  tone 
of  a  judge  pronouncing  sentence,  ''Are  you  aware, 
sir,  that  if  you  were  really  the  person  you  repre- 
sent yourself  to  be,  you  would  be  the  father-in- 
law  of  Livingstone,  the  African  explorer?" 

**And  so  I  am,"  was  the  quiet  rejoinder. 

At  those  words  the  crossed  legs  straightened 
into  the  perpendicular,  and  Andrew  stood  upon 
his  feet,  lifting  his  spectacles  for  a  clearer  view  of 
his  amazing  guest.  ''Is  it  possible  that  the  father- 
in-law  of  Livingstone  stands  before  me  and  under 
my  humble  roof?"  he  said  with  awe.  From  that 
moment  his  doubts  were  dispelled,  and  he  strove 
by  further  expressions  of  respect  to  atone  for  his 
crusty  welcome. 

Meanwhile  a  crowd  of  collier  boys  and  other 
villagers  had  gathered  about  the  tailor's  door  for 
a  glimpse  of  their  distinguished  visitor.  Perceiv- 
ing the  eager  faces,  Moffat  went  quickly  out  of  the 
house  and  stood  in  their  midst,  while  he  told  them 
stirring  anecdotes  of  his  life  in  South  Africa.  Be- 
fore he  drove  away  from  town  to  return  with 
his  friend  to  Stirling,  where  he  w^as  visiting,  he 
promised  to  come  back  and  tell  them  longer 
284 


BOBERT       AND       MARY       MOFFAT,       TWO 

CHRISTIAN       PILGRIMS       WHO,       IN 

THE     EVENING     OF     LIFE,     LAID 

DOWN    THE    BURDEN    THEY 

HAD   BORNE  THROUGH 

FORTY    YEARS    OF 

SACRIFICIAL 

SERVICE 


Photos.  London  Missionary  Society 


THE  REVEILLE 


stories  about  the  black  people  of  Bechuanaland. 
That  promise  was  more  than  once  redeemed. 

It  is  a  long  way  to  go  from  the  village  on  the 
banks  of  the  Carron  in  Scotland  to  that  other 
village  on  the  banks  of  the  Kuruman  in  South 
Africa,  a  long  way  in  miles  and  a  long  way  in  ex- 
perience,. But  the  longest  and  the  hardest  way 
by  far  is  that  which  leads  back  to  Britain  after 
one's  work  in  Africa  is  done.  It  is  not  coming 
home  then,  but  leaving  home,  the  home  of  fifty 
years. 

When,  in  the  year  1870,  Robert  and  Mary  Mof- 
fat had  stepped  out  of  their  house  at  Kuruman, 
the  house  in  which  they  had  lived  for  forty  years, 
and  walked  to  the  ox-wagon  which  was  to  take 
them  to  the  coast,  throngs  of  black  people  had 
blocked  the  way,  each  striving  for  one  last  clasp 
of  the  hand,  one  last  comforting  word  before  their 
beloved  leaders  should  go  forever  from  their 
sight.  As  the  wagon  crept  down  the  shaded  street 
and  away  toward  the  south,  all  the  people  in  the 
village  who  were  able  to  walk  followed  close  be- 
hind until  they  could  go  no  further.  Then  it  was 
that  a  long,  mournful  wail  rose  in  the  air,  a  haunt- 
ing token  of  the  black  man's  grief. 

285 


THE    MOFFATS 


Yes,  Eobert  and  Mary  Moffat  had  returned  to 
England,  leaving  their  own  son,  John,  in  charge 
of  the  mission  at  Kuruman.  A  few  days  after 
Christmas  of  that  same  year,  in  the  cold  of  a 
northern  \vinter  to  which  she  was  not  inured, 
Mary  Moffat  went  out  on  her  last  voyage  of  dis- 
covery, leaving  Robert  behind  in  the  land  of  his 
birth.  The  night  before  she  died,  she  prayed  audi- 
bly and  clearly  that  if  it  were  God's  will  to  take 
her  she  might  be  walling  to  go,  and  that  her  hus- 
band might  have  strength  given  him  to  bear  her 
leaving,  and  that  his  way  might  be  made  plain. 
Unto  the  very  last  her  thought  was  for  him  to 
whom  she  had  given  her  love  so  many  years  be- 
fore in  the  stone  house  at  Dukinfield.  This  time 
it  was  Mary  who  must  go,  and  Robert  who  must 
stay,  and  God  pity  the  lonely  man  who  cried  in 
his  anguish,  "For  fifty- three  years  I  have  had  her 
to  pray  for  me!" 

After  Mary's  death,  Robert  Moffat  lived  for 
twelve  years  a  busy  and  varied  life  in  England 
and  Scotland,  surrounded  by  children  and  grand- 
children, and  friends  of  all  ages  and  ranks.  Sig- 
nal honors  were  heaped  upon  him,  but  to  Robert 
Moffat  *  *  it  was  all  the  same  where  he  was  or  with 
286 


THE  REVEILLE 


whom  he  spoke."  Twice  he  was  presented  to 
Queen  Victoria  at  her  own  request;  twice  he 
breakfasted  with  Gladstone;  once  he  lectured  in 
the  great  nave  at  Westminster  by  invitation  of 
Dean  Stanley;  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London  gave  a 
dinner  in  the  Egyptian  Hall  in  his  honor;  the 
senate  of  Edinburgh  University  conferred  upon 
him  the  degree  of  doctor  of  divinity ;  the  freedom 
of  the  city  of  London  became  his  privilege;  and 
loyal  friends  presented  him  with  a  gift  of  money 
totaling  more  than  five  thousand  pounds,  besides 
the  generous  sum  donated  for  Moffat  Institute, 
the  training-school  for  African  workers  to  be  es- 
tablished at  Kuruman.    Yet,  withal,  he  could 

Walk  with  Kings — nor  lose  the  common  touch, 

And  all  men  counted  with  him,  but  none  too  much. 

The  picturesque  figure  of  Robert  Moffat,  the 
veteran  missionary,  was  constantly  seen  upon  the 
lecture  platform,  for,  as  he  often  said,  ''people 
either  could  not  or  would  not  see  that  he  was 
getting  old."  Once  he  crossed  to  Paris  at  the  in- 
vitation of  the  French  Missionary  Society  and 
there  addressed  an  audience  of  four  thousand 
Sunday-school  children.    Up  and  down  the  United 

287 


TEE    MOFFATS 


Kingdom  from  Gosport  to  Edinburgh,  from  Dun- 
dee to  London,  he  pleaded,  with  voice  still  strong 
and  comj^elling,  for  the  land  of  his  adoption  in 
South  Africa.  When  the  aged  man,  with  his  long 
white  beard  and  the  touch  of  majesty  about  his 
bearing,  walked  with  firm  tread  up  the  aisle,  the 
whole  audience  would  rise  simultaneously  to  its 
feet  to  pay  him  homage.  Nowhere  was  this 
demonstration  more  appealing  in  its  spontaneity 
than  in  Manchester,  the  city  where  Robert  Moffat 
and  Mary  Smith  once  dedicated  their  young  lives 
to  missionary  service.  To  Manchester  the  feet  of 
the  lonely  missionary  often  turned,  with  the  wist- 
fulness  of  home-coming,  and  there  in  its  halls  and 
homes  his  voice  was  often  heard. 

It  was  in  the  chief  city  of  the  realm  and  the 
most  historic  edifice  in  Britain  that  Robert  Moffat 
received  the  culminating  honor  of  his  life,  and, 
paradoxical  as  it  may  sound,  the  honor  which  be- 
fell him  there,  befell  not  him  but  another.  On 
that  April  day,  as  the  Thames  flowed  gray  and 
swift  by  the  Embankment,  David  Livingstone, 
missionary  and  explorer,  was  buried  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey,  the  "silent  meeting-place  of  the  great 
dead  of  eight  centuries." 
288 


TRE  REVEILLE 


Open  the  Abbey  doors  and  bear  him  in 

To  sleep  with  king  and  statesman,  chief  and  sage, 

The  missionary  come  of  weaver-kin, 

But  great  by  work  that  brooks  no  lower  wage. 

Under  the  dim,  wonderful  arches,  in  the  beauty 
of  light  and  shadow,  Robert  Moffat  sat  in  the 
great  nave  of  Westminster,  surrounded  by  the 
throng  but  alone  in  his  grief  and  meditation.  To 
no  one  present  did  the  scene  bring  such  a  throb- 
bing passion  of  memories,  for  the  man  who  that 
day  received  the  highest  honor  England  can  be- 
stow upon  her  hero  sons  was  his  own  son-in-law 
and  the  partner  of  his  dearest  hopes  for  Africa. 
The  ritual  of  the  burial  service  sounded  rhythmic 
and  steady  through  the  cathedral  nave,  but  the 
missionary  was  no  longer  under  the  great  arches 
of  Westminster  but  far  away  under  a  fragrant 
almond-tree  which  bloomed  before  a  cottage  door 
in  Kuruman.  A  young  man  and  woman  stood  be- 
fore him  there,  awaiting  with  bowed  heads  his 
benediction  to  crown  their  marriage  vows.  On  yet 
another  day  he  stood  under  the  shade  of  the  old 
tree,  watching  an  ox-cart  creep  away  toward  the 
north,  while  his  thoughts  followed  wistfully  after 
Mary,  his  own  Mary,  who  was  trekking  away 

289 


TEE    MOFFAT S 


through  the  forests  to  visit  the  bridal  pair  in 
their  lonely  frontier  home  and  carry  the  comfort, 
which  only  a  mother  can,  to  the  hearts  of  her  trou- 
bled children.  Then,  in  anguish  of  imagination, 
he  bowed  before  that  desolate  scene  in  the  rough 
cabin  at  Shupanga,  where  Mary  Livingstone  lay 
dying  and  a  strong  man  knelt  by  her  side,  broken 
with  grief  but  with  face  sternly  set  toward  his 
unfinished  task  for  Africa.  And  finally  there 
passed  before  his  mind  that  brave,  sorrowful  pro- 
cession of  black  men,  bearing  on  their  shoulders 
the  body  of  their  leader,  David  Livingstone, 
through  forest  and  jungle,  hostile  villages  and 
fever-ridden  marshes,  all  the  way  from  Chitambo's 
Village  in  Ilala  to  the  coast,  a  march  of  nine  weary 
months.  Could  the  world  ask  fuller  proof  of  the 
African's  loyalty  than  this  feat  of  devotion,  which 
for  sheer  love  and  bravery  has  scarcely  a  parallel 
in  human  history? 

Through  all  the  priceless  memories  of  the  past 
that  clustered  about  Mary  and  the  children,  David 
Livingstone,  Afrikaner,  Mosilikatse,  and  all  the 
loyal  black  people,  Robert  Moffat  dreamed  anew 
the  future  of  his  adopted  country.  Some  day  in 
the  years  or  centuries  to  come  that  misguided, 
290 


TBE  REVEILLE 


overlooked,  outcast  continent  of  Africa  would 
take  its  place  in  the  great,  forward  movement  of 
races  and  nations.  God  hasten  the  dawning  of 
that  day! 

Kobert  and  Mary  Moffat!  David  and  Mary 
Livingstone!  From  the  depths  of  their  loyal 
Scotch  hearts  they  gave  impassioned  service  to 
God  for  a  continent  of  human  need. 

They  met  the  tyrant's  brandished  steel, 
The  lion's  gory  mane, 
They  bowed  their  necks  the  stroke  to  feel, 
Who  follows  in  their  train? 


291 


Date  Due 

o  4  ^a-v*^^^  rv 


«»• 


1012  01043  3474 


ill  iiilliliii 


